Red Storm
by Jurana Keri
Summary: The sequel to 'Uplift', Jimmy Darling abandoned carnie life in Jupiter twenty-five years ago, taking his wife and "family" with him-a lot has changed. Will his past as a "freak" catch up to him? Will his family, especially his precious daughter Elina, suffer for being different? What will become of Dot and Bette? (Written AU)(WARNING: Contains mature content. Discretion advised)
1. Chapter 1

Jimmy had been sleeping without a stir underneath the brown and beige quilt and cream-colored linen sheets with his wife in his arms. However, he began to unwittingly shake his head in his slumber, a thin film of sweat forming on his slightly wrinkled brow as he groaned. He had been dreaming, memories playing in his head like a worn-out recording. He forced his mind's eye to see the images for the sake of a good night's sleep;

"_Tomorrow mornin', my boys are gon' come over here and run you outta town," the policeman said, staring the handsome man with deformed hands right in the eye. "There's no place in Jupiter for freaks." His blood boiled beyond his comprehension and beyond its normal means—how dare he storm onto the grounds and belittle them?_

_"__DON'T CALL US FREAKS!" he roared before taking out a knife and slashing the policeman's throat, leaving a deep gash with blood trickling out of the open wound. He collapsed to the ground, leaving the abnormally tall woman, man with short arms, and the conjoined twins in a state of shock. His deep, dark brown eyes stared at the man he just killed; he was also shocked that he could do such a thing. Then, the young man_—

"AH!" he shouted, jerking up from his sleep and looking out the window on the side of the bed, still under the beige and brown comforter as he tried to take a breath. He then felt a familiar movement next to him, drawn ever closer and feeling a soft, delicate hand on his bulky shoulder.

"What is the matter?" a feminine, accented voice asked. He looked to his left and saw the face of his wife, the moonlight illuminating her ageless, beautiful face, her vivid green eyes and her golden hair. Jimmy sighed, keeping a blank face as he rubbed his eyes roughly.

"Just a nightmare," he muttered wearily.

"About…what?" his wife asked.

"Just…"

He didn't know what to say—he had killed that policeman over twenty-five years ago; he had told his wife about how bad he felt two years after they married, and he trusted her completely not to tell anyone. Being a trustworthy, loyal wife, she said nothing—at the time, she could only understand half of what he had been confiding in her with. English was not her first language, but she had become fluent over the years of being married to her husband and living in America.

"_Ja_?"

"Just…go to sleep," he said.

"But—"

"Britta, _please_," he said through gritted teeth. She gasped slightly, doing as she was told and laying back in her side of the bed, turning on her side so her back faced Jimmy. She frowned slightly and sighed, trying to get comfortable again. Her husband, feeling sorry for snapping at her, moved closer so he could spoon with her.

"I'm sorry, doll," he said apologetically. He rarely ever got mad at her; in fact, he got mad more times at his three sons than at her. Boys usually did stupid things and had weird antics and phases of their own. Britta, turning her head to look into her husband's dark eyes with slight age on them, felt him kiss her cheek as she blinked.

"Elina's birthday is tomorrow," she said, changing the subject. He smiled, holding her form close to his front with his disfigured hands; he had been born that way, his fingers fused together and his hands larger than average. Elina was their youngest child, a miracle that completed their family; she was special. _Very_ special.

"Yeah, it is," he said with a smile, trying to close his eyes.

"She's thirteen," his wife added, a content sigh escaping her small, graceful lips. Jimmy chuckled and sighed, his warm breath caressing his wife's ear and blowing a few strands of her golden blonde hair.

"Already? It was only yesterday she was a baby," he said, pleasant memories replacing the guilt-filled ones that have long since passed. "I guess our little girl is growing up. I wish she could stay little." Britta laughed, the sound of her giggling filling the room and making her husband join in on the sudden laughter. She stopped with a breath before speaking.

"Annika grew up fast, too," she added. Their eldest child had been living in New York state since she was seventeen years old; how had she been doing? It had been so long since they'd seen her.

"Don't even get me started," Jimmy said, planting a kiss on the curve of his wife's slender neck; her heart raced and she sighed to relieve the jittery feeling inside.

"It's still late," Britta muttered, her Swedish intonation less heavy than it was in her youth; Jimmy still loved that part of her. Her voice was soft, like an angel speaking from heaven or a dove's feather blowing in the breeze of a warm, summer day.

"Good night, doll," he said, falling asleep in their spooning position.

* * *

><p>"What're ya doin'?"<p>

"It's supposed to be a surprise, dammit! Don't be so damn loud!"

"You're gonna wake 'er up," the third brother said.

"That girl sleeps like a rock," the second brother stated. "She ain't gonna wake up yet."

"Aw, goddammit, Jules! You burnt the toast!"

"That bacon is gonna splatter all over, Toby."

"You're makin' a mess! There's grease everywhere!"

"Shut up, Toby."

"Make me, ya pussy!"

The sound of light footsteps coming down the stairs silenced the three to a small degree; the oldest of the sons looked back from their efforts at making a surprise breakfast for their little sister, Elina, because it was her birthday. The eldest son tapped them both on the shoulders and whispered gently.

"I think it's her," he said quietly. "Be casual."

"It's probably _mamma_," the second eldest son assumed hotly. "They walk the same."

"Shut up, just—"

"_Vad är det som händer här nere? Varför skriker du som ett gäng idioter?_"

Britta looked at her three sons, Christopher, Julian, and Tobias as they all stared at her with relief; each of them took a sigh at their own pace. Fifteen-year old Julian, who was nicknamed "Jules", stared at her with his jaded green eyes and ruffled the front of his shaggy chestnut brown hair.

"Oh, _hej mamma_," he said in his youthful but deep voice. The children had all spoken English as a first language but knew Swedish, and spoke it with her all the time. Jimmy never minded, but when eating as a family, he certainly didn't want language to be an issue.

"Why do I smell burning?" she asked, peering over the shoulder of Christopher, her eldest son who was twenty with an athletic build and tall stature.

"This idiot burnt the toast," Tobias said casually, elbowing Jules—he was seventeen and incredibly handsome with short, shaggy blond hair, cornflower blue eyes, and his father's heart-stopping, dimpled grin. He also had quite a temper that got him in trouble at school with the principal.

"Hey!" Jules said, raising his hand as if to smack his brother upside the head.

"Boys! Enough!" Britta exclaimed, putting her hand to her forehead. "My God, can't you two get along?"

"_Mamma_, we were only trying to surprise Elina," Christopher said, looking down at his mother and into her ageless face. "We wanted to make her breakfast."

Britta's weary eyes looked around the kitchen—the counter was covered in a thick layer of flour and pancake mix with a greasy, empty bacon package resting on top of it. A few broken eggs with sac fluid flowing out of them rested next to it, and some even dripped down the lower cupboard and onto the linoleum floor, and a couple of failed attempts at perfect toast rested randomly on a cleaner part of the counter. On the stove were three skillets; one with a pancake about to burn, another with the last three strips of bacon, and another with eggs sunny-side up. She shook her head and looked at her three sons.

"That is very nice of you, but please clean this mess up before your father sees it," she said.

"Alright, alright," Toby said, rolling his eyes.

"Is the birthday girl awake yet?" Christopher asked, his brown eyes looking at his mother curiously.

"I'll go and see," she said, pointing to the huge mess they made while making breakfast for Elina.

As they started to clean up the mess and put the finished food on a dish, the Swedish woman went upstairs to see if her youngest daughter had been awake—she looked up, and at the top of the stairwell was Jimmy dressed in an button-up with old blue jeans, his graying auburn-brown hair slicked back as much as it could be. He was starting to lose his hair, as normal with aging, and his face definitely looked to be aged somewhat as compared to Britta—other than a few gray hairs amongst her blonde tresses, there had not been a wrinkle or a crow's foot near her eyes. She was ageless; the years had been good to her. She had, however, filled out and became fuller figured as compared to her youthful, willowy frame; her hips were wider and her breasts were fuller after having nursed five children during her marriage. She always wore her hair up in a bun or a braid, and it was to the middle of her back.

"Good morning, love," her husband said, coming down the stairs rapidly to greet her with a kiss. "Where are you going?"

"They made breakfast for Elina," she replied. "I am going to wake her up."

"Want me to?"

"_Nej_, I can," Britta replied, going up the stairs as she flattened out the skirt of her modest, floral patterned dress that was a mix of slate blue, gray and white.

She approached Elina's bedroom door and knocked. There was no answer, so she opened the door slowly and stepped in, taking a few steps forward as her eyes glanced around the room. The bed was made, its white chenille bedspread unwrinkled and tucked underneath her pillow. Her white vanity-styled dresser had the usual on it; a record player, a couple of albums by the Carpenters and Fleetwood Mac, and a stuffed teddy bear she had since she was a young child. Her closet was open, and some clothes, possibly Elina's pajamas, had been tossed on the floor along with clean garments taken off their hangers.

_Where could she be_, Britta thought. She made her way out of the room and down the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

In the barnhouse on the Darling's five acres of land, Dot and Bette, the conjoined twins, had been baking and frosting the cake for Elina's birthday. Jimmy and Britta had planned to surprise the girl with a bash, something they had stopped doing when she was only five years old. They had taken the liberty of making the cake—angel food vanilla frosted with a thick layer of sugar pink icing with the circumference bordered with a scalloped design of snow white frosting. Bette thought of putting strawberries on the top for decoration, and as soon as she started to cut the stems off, Dot's arm stopped her. \

"Don't," she said coldly.

"But it'll be a nice decoration!" Bette exclaimed with a dreamy smile.

"We have to fit all the candles," Dot replied. "We can't if there're strawberries on the cake."

"Can't we slice 'em thin?" Bette suggested, seeing the other head on their shared body roll her eyes. "Or keep 'em whole but have the cut part facin' down on the frostin'?"

"There ain't gonna be any room, Bette," Dot said, finishing on the top border of scalloped snow white frosting on the cake.

"Maybe in a circle toward the center?" Bette thought. "So that we can put candles on the outside?" Dot groaned reluctantly, looking over at her twin's head.

"Maybe," she said. "Give me the knife."

Both twins' arms worked together to cut the leafy stems off the fresh strawberries that had been picked that morning for their own consumption. Bette's arm positioned each berry to that Dot's arm could work at cutting it, but the kinder twin winced upon feeling the blade just barely brush against her index finger.

"Dot! Watch out!" she exclaimed.

"_Shh_! You hear that?"

The familiar sound of a galloping horse drew closer near as both twins on their conjoined body listened for the possibility of who it could be; had it been Elina, they would have to act fast and put the cake in the refrigerator. The sound drew nearer, and Bette acted fast, her arm reaching for the box in which to put the cake. Seeing what her twin was doing, she followed suit and carefully but quickly slid the tray inside the box before they went to the window to see who it was—the galloping sound stopped, but a young girl with long, wavy platinum blonde hair cascading down the length of her back got off her beloved horse's back and made her way to the barnhouse's entrance.

"It's her! Hide the cake," Bette exclaimed.

"It's already in its box," Dot replied.

The front door opened, and the twins turned their conjoined body around to face a true vision of beauty—the youngest of the Darlings, Elina was, by all accounts, heavenly in appearance with her fair features and graceful bearing. Her long, wavy hair was practically the color of virgin white snow with hints of gold throughout, and it cascaded down the length of her back like a waterfall in a scenic, enchanted forest. Her face was delicate and youthful, timeless as a marble statue of a goddess; her face was heart-shaped with prominent cheekbones and an exquisite, moon white complexion. Her lush, pink lips were full, and since her mouth was somewhat small, they created an irresistible pucker when she made just the right facial expression. Her eyes, however, were quite unique—they were slightly almond shaped with thick, full, black eyelashes framing the intense hazel-green color that radiated the fire within. They were windows to her strong, independent, powerful soul.

Elina resembled her mother a lot, but with some minor exceptions; her height and her build. At her daughter's age, Britta had been extremely thin; however, curves had begun to show on the young girl's body within the past year, forming the beginnings of a beautifully feminine hourglass frame. Her breasts began to grow also, and the twins could tell she wasn't wearing a bra because her bust was jiggling through the loose peasant top of her light gray dress. She was taller than her mother by a few inches, but still shorter than her father and brothers. Dot grimaced, but then focused on the girl's angelic face staring up at her as she entered the barnhouse.

"Hello, Elina," Bette said with a smile, adjusting her graying dark hair in its headband.

"Hello," she answered, her sweet voice carried through the barnhouse.

"It's so beautiful out, isn't it?" the nice twin asked, trying to act casual. "Especially since Halloween is a few days away."

"Yeah, it sure is." Elina's tone of voice sounded excited, but something was definitely weird about that day—_have they all forgotten_, she thought. The young girl took a seat, leaning her back on the chair comfortably as she crossed one leg over the other.

"I could've sworn I heard your father callin' for you," Dot said, eye on the box holding her surprise birthday cake.

"Isn't Lily coming by to get you so you can go to town?" Bette asked. They both had the same thing in mind—make her leave so they could finish up the cake and make other preparations.

"Well, which is it? My father, or Lily?" she asked, looking at them as though she were testing them. At that moment, she noticed the box on the table behind the twins and looked at it for a moment. "What's in the box?"

"Oh, nothing!" Bette exclaimed, feigning an excited mood. Elina shook her head and stood up, making her way to the entrance of the barnhouse. Dot peered at her sister's head next to hers and squirmed before glancing at the girl.

"Alright," the young girl said, sighing breathily before opening the door and leaving. She stepped up on the stirrups of Dagmar, her beloved tan mare, and her long wavy white-blonde hair blew in the cool October breeze as she rode away back to her family house, not far from the comfortable barnhouse renovated just for the former carnies that had lived with them.

She felt the breeze on her angelic, ethereal face as it ran its fingers through her hair, but also maintained focus on what was ahead of her. Dagmar was always an intelligent horse, and she galloped forward with Elina on her back until the young girl used her feet to signal her to slow down to the sight of her father sitting on the front steps. Upon seeing his beloved daughter, Jimmy stood up and brought one of his deformed hands to his hair, swiping it back as he watched her platinum, wavy hair be caressed by the breeze.

"Elina! There you are," he said with a giggle, approaching the girl on her horse. Her burning hazel-green eyes looked down into his, which had squinted because of the sunlight, which reflected off her hair like the blinding snow on a sunny winter's day.

"Good morning, dad," she said with a smile. He held his arms up as if to take her down off the horse; he had done that when she was younger. He had gotten Dagmar for her when she was just a foal, and Elina loved her so much.

"Come down from there, sweetie," he said, still holding his large deformed hands up to her. Elina shrugged and let her father take her down off the horse for old time's sake, setting her on the ground and looking down at her as he moved a piece of her white-blonde hair away from her face.

"Happy birthday," he said with a smile.

Her pearly whites smiled back at him, giggling softly as he took his daughter in his strong arms and held her, sighing as he kissed the top of her fair head. Elina heard him speak through the comfort of his chest, his tone nostalgic as he remembered all the memories he had with his precious little girl. She had been born a month premature, and if it weren't for proper medical attention, she and her mother would have died. Miraculously, the baby recovered, and Jimmy remembered holding her for the first time, her eyes starry and angelic as they stared up at him. He remembered shedding a tear of joy, despite being worried about his wife. She had spent more time in the hospital than the baby.

"You grew up so fast," he said with a sigh, remembering every image exactly how he perceived it. "I can't believe you're thirteen today."

"Dad, stop it," she said with a shy giggle.

"Alright, alright," he said, changing his tone to a more excited one. "Your brothers have a surprise for you. Let's go in."

Jimmy led Elina into the house, and upon entering, she took off her shoes and placed them by the wooden coat hanger that had her father's leather coat and Christopher's dirtied plaid overshirt. She followed her father into the dining room to see her three brothers—Christopher, Toby, and Jules—standing there with grins on their faces. Toby had grease from the bacon on his shirt, and Jules' hands were covered in flour and leftover pancake mix.

"Surprise!"

Elina gasped and smiled brightly at her three brothers and their tandem shout, all of whom laughed before they were joined by Britta, who looked over at her daughter with admiration before approaching her; she kissed her cheek gently and their eyes met. Elina could feel her mother's serenity mingle with the fire in her own soul as their gaze went on.

"_Grattis på födelsedagen_," she told Elina, cotinuing in Swedish. "You're becoming a woman. I'm so proud of you, my dear." Britta hugged her, smiling slightly before letting her go.

"We made you breakfast, Elina," Christopher interrupted.

"You did?" Elina asked.

"Yeah, right here," he said, pulling out the head chair for her to sit in. She walked over and sat, crossing her legs at the ankles. She looked down at the plate to see sloppy sunny-side up eggs with slightly broken yolks, three greasy, fatty strips of bacon, two slightly burnt buttermilk pancakes and charred toast on the side. _This looks disgusting_, she thought, masking her true feelings with a slight smile up at her brothers.

"This idiot burnt the toast," Toby teased, grabbing Jules so he had him in a headlock to give him a noogie.

"Ah, hey!" Jules called out, trying to push his older brother away from him.

"Enough!" Britta exclaimed, looking down at the food they had served their sister. She grimaced slightly before leaving the room. The young girl shrugged and started with the eggs that didn't look entirely bad, taking a forkful of whites and taking it to her lips. Jimmy glared at his three sons, especially at Toby—how dare they serve her crap, especially on her birthday?

"You call this a chef's work?" he asked.

"Well, no," Jules interjected nervously, looking at his father. "We…well…it ain't perfect but—"

"We only want the _very best_ for our_little_ sister," Toby sneered sarcastically.

"_Toby_?" Jimmy scolded distastefully.

He walked over to his sons, watching his pained expression as his deformed hand grabbed a firm hold on his ear. Toby yelled as his father dragged him into the small area that connected the living and dining rooms as well as the kitchen. His cornflower blue eyes looked into his father's deep brown ones, and he smirked with disbelief.

"What did I do?" he asked.

"What _didn't_ you do? It's her _birthday_, for crying out loud! You couldn't make an effort to make her a good breakfast?! That looks like total shit," Jimmy lectured, his trademark angry expression having taken over his face. Toby rolled his eyes and rubbed his ear to stop the pain.

"Ah," he groaned. "It was Jules' idea. Actually, we_all_ wanted to surprise her."

"You better not start any shit during her birthday tonight," his father warned. "Don't _ever _let me hear you being a smart-ass to her again. You hear?"

"Ugh," Toby groaned. "Fine."

* * *

><p>By 4:00 that afternoon, Elina's best friend, Lily Carlisle, had come to the house wearing a hot fuchsia dress with long sleeves, a frilled collar, a gold lamé-lined sash, and a pleated skirt. After leaving her gift on a table set especially for the occasion, Britta had greeted her and led her upstairs to her daughter's bedroom, where Elina was waiting to get ready. Her mousey brown hair was tamed down with hair clips, and her glasses magnified her small gray eyes and drew less attention to her gapped smile; there was a space between her two front teeth. Once up the stairs, she entered Elina's room to see her wearing a wine-colored party dress with translucent sleeves and slight frilling in the front of the skirt. The girl stood up and approached her friend, smiling as Lily greeted her excitedly.<p>

"Happy birthday!" the girl with mousey hair said.

"Thank you so much," Elina smiled, looking at her friend's large glasses.

"Let's start with 'er hair, Mrs. Darlin'? Can we?" Lily asked in her heavy Southern accent.

"We can," Britta said with a smile, reaching for the brush and beginning to brush sections of the soft, near-white waves cascading from her daughter's head. Lily took out a hair ribbon as Britta pulled two sections back and brushed them before tying the ribbon. To finish the look, Lily brought some of her hair forward so that it would flow gracefully and frame her heart-shaped, delicately beautiful face.

"There ya go," Lily said, taking out a small bag; Elina looked down to see it was a large makeup compact that included blush, different shades of vibrant eye shadow, and lipsticks in a compartment. She gasped; she had never worn makeup before.

"What do you have there?" Britta asked.

"Just some makeup. I'm gonna doll 'er up a bit," Lily said.

"Not too much," Britta said, leaving the room to leave the two girls alone to finish getting ready.

The family and the guests who had been invited were downstairs in the entry room, all dressed up for Elina's thirteenth birthday party. The angel food vanilla cake with light pink and snow white icing topped with strawberries had been in the kitchen; colorful balloons were held down by weights covered in shiny paper; refreshments and light appetizers were on a large platter next to where the gifts were stacked. Lily escorted Elina down the stairs to everyone shouting "SURPRISE!" and blowing into kazoos and small, cheap party horns.

As she gasped, she saw a few familiar faces that had travelled just to see her—Paul the Illustrated Seal and Amazon Eve, both former carnies who had lived with the Darlings only to get married and move away to the suburbs of Georgia; they divorced three years later, but remained friends. Even Sigrid, Britta's nurse friend who had travelled to South Carolina to visit every few years or so, came and brought her husband and son with her—yes, she had gotten married, to an American; her married name was Mortenson. As the festivities began, everyone began to socialize—Jimmy caught up with Eve and Paul, while Britta caught up with Sigrid.

"You've brought your son?" Britta asked, sipping from her punch.

"_Ja_, he turned thirteen in July," Sigrid answered.

"Oh, isn't that something," the blonde woman said with a smile.

* * *

><p>Nicholas Mortenson, her son, was relatively good looking with dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and he was quite tall; he stood five-foot nine. His first glance at Elina, his eyes widened, admiring her platinum blonde waves as her hairstyle allowed it to flow down the front and the back. He smirked slightly, approaching her as she stood with Lily within an hour of the party starting. He cleared his throat before he got close enough to see her ethereal, unearthly face—Lily did a good job on her makeup, even if her eyeshadow was an intense gold color; her cheekbones were highlighted perfectly with a reddish-brown blush. The moment she looked at him, he began to speak Swedish so he could impress her—he had known some from his own mother.<p>

"Are you the birthday girl?" he asked nervously. "You look very _vacker_." Lily broke out in a fit of laughter, ignorant of what was happening, while Elina kept her composure, knowing what he meant as she sipped her punch. _Did he just call me beautiful_, she asked herself. Her fiery hazel-green eyes looked into his blue ones and she smiled slightly.

"_Tack_," she replied, keeping the language seamlessly in their conversation. "You speak Swedish?" He felt very nervous; _I'm such an idiot_, he thought, _what should I say?_

"Well, _ja_," he replied. "My mom is Swedish. I think she's friends with your mom. Her name is Sigrid. Do you remember?" How could she have forgotten her visits every few years, and all the times she would coo and say how grown up everyone looked for the time being?

"Oh, of course!" Now she was struggling to be polite.

"_Ja_, she's a nurse. She works with babies," he replied. She nodded, looking up at him curiously—what was he trying to prove?

"Well, I am Elina," she said, changing the subject. "This is my friend, Lily."

"It's a pleasure," he replied, shaking their hands and feeling more confident. "I'm Nick."

Jimmy glanced over briefly at his daughter, but then his expression turned to shock as he saw the young man talking with his daughter. A thousand worries ran through his mind as he watched them positively interact—yes, she was being polite; he hadn't raised her to be snobby or conceited. He worried about the dangers to a girl's heart if she were involved too soon; he would not let that be his daughter; otherwise, there'd be hell to pay. _She's too young for boys_, he thought

He waved his hands in the air—he was no longer afraid of people casting him out because of his deformity. He was well-liked in their sparsely-spaced neighborhood of small farms and laborers; everyone liked him because he was a hard worker and generally very nice to those who had been nice to him. Those who had cast him out and made him feel like the scum of the earth had moved away over the years of being in Barnwell.

"Alright, time for cake!" he called out.

Luckily, the young man walked away from his daughter and her friend, but they all congregated in the dining room—Elina, however, snuck into the kitchen and went to the cake, smiling at how delicious it looked even with the candles placed on its thick, iced surface. She raised her hand, took a breath, and waved her hand over the wicks of the candles; thirteen flames took form—all from the power of her mind. She smiled as the fire burned in her eyes, going to the dining room and waiting for her cake to be brought out to her.

"_Happy birthday to you,_

_Happy birthday to you,_

_Happy birthday dear Elina,_

_Happy birthday to you_!"

As soon as everyone began to clap, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her wish, puckering her lips outward to blow the candles out—she couldn't use her powers; people would ostracize her. Britta took a serving knife after taking out the candles and began to cut the cake. Almost everyone who wanted cake got some, and Elina, who had the first piece, loved how the sugar pink icing tasted like strawberries.

"We made that just for you," Bette smiled, her head looking down at Elina.

"That was what was in the box," Dot giggled.

Meanwhile, there was a loud knock on the door. It caught Jimmy's attention, causing him to walk toward it and turn the doorknob.


	3. Chapter 3

Opening the door, he poked his head out to get a glance, but the strikingly familiar face caught his attention and enough to open it completely. The person who had knocked resembled Jimmy to a large degree, only this person was slightly shorter but still unusually tall for a…woman? Yes, it was a woman, yet she had a masculine build and was even wearing men's clothing—on the top she wore a brown shirt that was only buttoned up to below where her extremely flat breasts were, and her pants consisted of blue bell-bottom jeans that led down to her Birkenstock-covered shoes. Her hair, only reaching to her shoulders, was disheveled and a strawberry-blonde color, and over her eyes were a pair of sunglasses. A bunch of necklaces hung down from her neck, but he could only distinguish a few pendants.

"Hello, can I help you?" Jimmy asked, noticing a box being held in her arm. The other hand reached up to take off her glasses, and it all became clear to Jimmy who it was.

"_Annika_?" he asked in shock.

"Yeah, dad," she replied. "You don't remember me?"

"Oh my God! Of course I do! What a surprise, though!" Jimmy exclaimed, hugging his daughter roughly and patting her back; she smiled and laughed.

"It's good to be home," she replied. "I came for Elina's birthday. Uh…" She spaced out and looked up at the porch ceiling, guessing her age. "Twelve?"

"Thirteen," her father corrected, in shock of how masculine she looked; she was not the most attractive of their children, but she was his child and he loved her unconditionally. Annika looked at him, noticing the age in his face and hair, and chuckled.

"So…" Jimmy began, looking at her clothing. "Come on in. Elina would be happy to see you. You've been gone so long."

"I know, I know," she said nonchalantly in her lax, low-pitched voice.

She entered her family home to a bunch of gasps, looks and even snickers as she made her way toward the gift table to place the wrapped box with the other gifts lefts by the guests. Jimmy made his way over to his daughter and tapped her on one of her unusually broad but lanky shoulders.

"There's cake and stuff in the dining room," he told her.

"Yeah? What kind?"

"Angel food…uh…I think it's vanilla bean," Jimmy replied, following his daughter to the dining room to join the rest for cake. He watched his wife's shocked facial expression upon seeing the "stranger" enter the room, and as soon as Annika approached her mother, she gazed up at her, somewhat intimidated by her unnatural height.

"_Mamma_, it's me, Annika," she said in flawless Swedish. Britta looked at what her daughter was wearing, shocked by her selection. She never raised Annika and Elina to wear pants or dress like the opposite sex, but then she remembered that her eldest had been a tomboy growing up.

"Annika, where have you been?" she asked.

"New York state," Annika replied. "Remember? I moved there?"

Jimmy made his way over to his wife and eldest child, seeing their awkward interaction—he could easily sense Britta was intensely uncomfortable being with their unattractive, masculine daughter. The Swede's lips had parted and her eyes looked blank as piece of fresh copy paper; Jimmy was not bothered one bit by her choice of dress, as it was something he had grown used to during her childhood, but it bothered him to see Britta that way.

"What a nice surprise," Jimmy reiterated with a smile, winking at his wife. She was unswayed. "Don't you agree with me? She came all the way from New York for her sister's party…Elina should be here somewhere."

Annika, who turned her head to get a glance of Elina and her fair features, walked over to her but stopped just enough so that her little sister would stop talking with Lily and glance over at her. When she did, the girl gasped, remembering her distinctive face and intensely wavy strawberry-blonde hair all too well; Lily also caught sight of the stranger, and looked at her with surprise, believing her to be a male.

"That another brother? He's so cute," Lily crooned.

"No, that's my _sister_," Elina said with joy as she hopped up from her seat and walked rapidly over to Annika, looking up at her with her intense, fiery hazel-green eyes. In return, the woman stared down at Elina's heavenly, unearthly face in shock; how she had grown since she last saw her.

"Wow! Elina!"

"Annika, is that really you?" the young girl asked as she looked her older sister up and down; she was fascinated by her choice of dress.

"Yeah, it's me," Annika said with a smile that reminded her so much of her father's. She held her arms out, crouching slightly. "Come and give me a hug."

Without hesitation, Elina wrapped her arms around her sister, who embraced her tightly with one arm around her upper torso and a hand on the top of her long, wavy platinum hair. She felt her heart smile as she couldn't believe how much her sister had grown up over the years of her being gone. She remembered Elina being just five when she left for up north with a few select childhood friends. Jimmy smiled as he watched the two bond, while Britta, looking at her eldest daughter's clothing choice in disgust, felt worried for some reason.

"It's so good to see you again," Elina muttered, letting go of her older sister as she stood upright to her normal stance.

"You too, kiddo," Annika replied casually. Walking to the table and getting the serving knife, the girl cut a piece of the delicious, homemade angel food vanilla cake with pink and white frosting topped with strawberries and put it on a saucer before taking a fork and handing it graciously to her sister.

"Here," Elina said with an ethereal, pearly-white smile. "For you."

It took everyone over a half an hour before they were ready to see the birthday girl open her presents, and they all relocated to the living room after a short clean-up session of removing paper plates and plastic utensils with crumbs and traces of thick, creamy frosting. Elina sat on the sofa with Jimmy and Lily sitting next to her, while Britta sat in her chair adjacent to the couch. Christopher, Toby, and Jules all came in last, and before entering, they saw Annika and were shocked at how manly she looked. Toby snickered before making a snide remark at his eldest sibling.

"You hidin' a ding-dong under there?" he joked.

"I see your lips moving, but are you really _saying_ anything?" she asked cynically. "No, not really. Shut up." As she walked away into the living room the join the other guests, Toby looked at his brothers and shook his head.

"You just got burned," Christopher said, walking into the living room.

"Well, she's always been a butchie," Toby sneered.

Elina began her gift-unwrapping session by first opening the present from her mother and father, revealing it to be a gold heart necklace with a pair of matching pearl earrings. She gasped upon seeing the gift, and looked to both her parents with a bright smile of gratitude.

"Thank you," she said to her father. Then she turned to her mother, who sat up straight in her chair, watching her daughter's reaction with a subtle, serene grin. "_Tack så mycket_."

Each box was filled with a wide range of gifts, from clothing to jewelry, from money in cards to a bottle of perfume courtesy of Dot and Bette, who wanted to get something extra special for the girl. Eve had given her some candy, and Paul gave a generous gift of $100 in a specially-made card. Several boxes and thank you's later, she came to Annika's gift, which was wrapped in rainbow wrapping paper—looking before her at all the guests who had generously given presents, she saw her sister who smiled and giggled.

"My gift is the best! Glad you saved it for last!" she shouted, her low-pitched voice shocking the rest of the guests and embarrassing Britta.

"Well, let's see here," Elina replied, tearing into the flimsy, colorful paper to reveal a medium-sized box with a lid; opening it, she saw a brand new pair—no, two pairs—of bell-bottom jeans that were much more feminine than her sister's and what she had worn that evening. Holding them out of the box, Jimmy and Annika both smiled joyfully; Britta, however, gasped in shock—Elina was never allowed to wear pants; it just was unfeminine in her eyes.

"Wow! Oh…my…gosh!" the young girl exclaimed, glancing down in the box to find other things which included three albums: Pink Floyd's _The Wall_, Fleetwood Mac's _Tusk_, and Blondie's _Eat to the Beat_, as well as a few candy bars and three strings of love beads. Elina smiled; Annika had very good taste even if she was a masculine woman.

"I _love_ them, sis," she said with a smile. The woman made her way over to the young girl and patted her platinum head before leaning to give her a hug.

Elina was so happy—it had been the best birthday ever with so many surprises and unexpected arrivals…literally.

Later that night after all the guests had left, Jimmy sat out on the front steps of his home, overlooking the stretch of land that connected to the main dirt road that led directly to town a few miles down the way. He was smoking a cigarette, taking slow drags as he allowed himself to relax. In the distance to his right was a large, sky blue Volkswagen camper that had been parked there for a few hours at the very least. The lights were on inside it, and he had assumed it belonged to Annika, who he saw coming out of it as she dragged on a cigarette. She walked toward the house, getting a better vision of her father on the front steps as he put out his cigarette. She continued to drag, her bare feet on the tan, dirt terrain.

"Heya," she said.

"Oh, hi, Annika," Jimmy said, relaxed but weary from the day. She took a seat next to her father. "Is that yours?"

"Yup."

"You're staying in it?" he asked.

"Yeah, I drove all the way down from New York in it," Annika replied, dragging on her cigarette and puffing out the smoke.

"When are you going back?" he asked, taking a breath of fresh air as the cool, warm Southern breeze came among the two. Annika sighed, breathing out the nicotine-filled smoke from her recent drag.

"Well…" She thought for a moment. "I don't think I am going back to New York."

"What?" Jimmy couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But…didn't you like it up there? It sure as hell probably was better than sticking around on the farm."

"Oh no, it _was _nice," Annika said. "I…I guess I just needed to come back and realize…"

"Realize what, Annika?"

"That…I'm not all that great…" she muttered sadly.

"What? Don't say that," Jimmy said sadly, putting an arm around his eldest daughter's shoulder. "Is it your ma?"

"Well, when I walked in, she looked at me like I had three heads, dad," she said, shaking her head as her strawberry-blonde frizz moved in sync with it. "Yeah, she tried to help me fit in, but if you put lipstick on a pig it's still a pig. After tonight, I don't even know if she will accept the fact that…" She trailed off and sighed sadly.

"What is it?" he asked with deep concern. She sighed and hesitated before answering, sighing.

"I'm a lesbian," she said, tearing up as she dragged on her cigarette. "There, I said it. Even though I don't think you—"

"Annika," he said, pushing his hair back and looking at her calmly with deep, dark eyes. "It doesn't matter to me who you love. I love you just the same."

"R-Really?" she asked.

"Yeah, I always have loved you guys," Jimmy said with a smile, giving her an emotional hug.

"But…_mamma_…she won't be too happy about it. That why I was afraid to come out to anyone," she said, her low-pitched voice crooning in her father's ear. He let her go and looked into her eyes, so identical to his own and sighed.

"Your mother has always been very traditional. You got to understand that she was raised like that, and in her country, it's different," he told her.

"This is _not_ Sweden, dad," she stated forcefully. "She's been here for _how_ long?"

"I know, Annika, but…" He trailed off, holding her perfectly normal hand in his own deformed one. "You can't always change how people feel. I learned that a long time ago. People made fun of me until the cows came home because of my deformity."

"And people made fun of me for looking like a boy," Annika said, relating her own experiences to his statement. "Hell, I even took up looking like a boy. It was the only thing that made me feel happy. I fit in with the boys in the neighborhood. It's like I belonged. Yeah, I wasn't like the other girls. Come to think of it, maybe I wasn't meant to be a woman at all. Look at me!"

Jimmy looked at his daughter and remembered her as a child. Up until the age of seven or so, Annika had been forced into cute, frilly dresses; at least until she could be able to express the fact that she didn't like wearing girly clothing. Being friends with the neighboring boys gave her the opportunity to dress in plainer clothing and even wearing full-out boys' ensembles. He remembered the first day she came home wearing boy's clothing, Britta lectured the girl telling her it was not acceptable for her to wear clothes of the opposite sex. As she got older, she wanted to redo her wardrobe, but both of her parents ignored her pleas, at least until she hit age twelve—she let her daughter wear pants; Jimmy was finally happy that his daughter was happy, and that was all that mattered to him. What she said right then and there made sense to a degree.

"So…tell me more about New York. Not when you went to that music festival—"\

"You mean Woodstock?" she corrected.

"Yeah, you know. I meant when you left to live there for the past eight years," Jimmy said.

"Well, it's a long story," Annika said, trying to dig into her mind for the right things to say. "Here goes…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** _This chapter is written in the __first person__; this is Annika's voice speaking, and it is a __**flashback**_**! **(Ends at the line) **WARNING:**_May contain sensitive content; discretion is advised._

I was seventeen when I moved to New York; country life in South Carolina bore me to tears. I loved my family, but I thought I had a brighter future up north. I went to Woodstock in the summer of 1969; I was fifteen. It was amazing to see all of music's greats on stage—Jimi Hendrix strumming the anthem in his white, fringy costume with a red bandana around his thick, black afro; Santana, another legendary guitarist, gave an unforgettable encore with _Soul Surrender_; Grateful Dead's late-night set was cut short after the stage amps overloaded during a number; Janis Joplin crooned _Piece of my Heart_ on magic mushrooms—phew, what a time I had. I was with my best friends Richie, Bob, Mike, and Dale. They are like my second set of brothers, and they lived nearby in Barnville. Dale brought the weed—that's when I wanted bigger and better things.

Well, enough with that. I moved to New York in 1971; I was seventeen, as I said. I dropped out of school, but it wasn't like I was doing well; actually, scratch that, I was good in English. Yeah…English. I've always loved to write, and I wrote my first song when I was fourteen, and I play guitar, so I was able to set it to music. It was my first kiss that inspired it; it was with a boy. That boy was Richie. We were hanging out, and I guess he just, well, you know, kissed me. Right on the lips. It was literally four seconds; yeah, I counted. I couldn't wait for it to be over. It felt wrong, for some reason. When it was over, a huge grin came over his face—I smacked him silly. It wasn't that hard when I hit him. So we just laughed it off before going to his house for dinner.

When I went to New York, I realized why I hadn't particularly enjoyed Richie kissing me. I took a job as a checkout clerk in a convenience store. After about four months or so of working there, someone buying milk dropped the carton and it exploded all over the floor. Once I heard the noise, I ran out from behind the counter and rushed to help the person, getting a shit-ton of paper towels and laying them on the floor. I looked up after trying to get the towels to absorb the milky mess, and saw a beautiful, and I mean _beautiful_, girl. I was thinking to myself, how can someone so gorgeous be clumsy?

"Well, don't just sit there staring at me," the girl said, looking at me with her big brown eyes. "Clean the mess." She was a snotty bitch at first, but I liked it. She was feisty.

"Uh…" I was at a loss for words. "Last I checked, I'm the one that works here."

"Yeah, clean it," she snapped.

"Well, ex_cuse me_, pushy," I said in response, standing up and looking down to realize she was shorter than me. Her chestnut brown hair was feathered with a light fringe covering the side of her forehead, and she was pretty well dressed. She seemed intimidated, and I smirked playfully down at her.

"Not so tough now, are you?" I asked jokingly.

"Well, that's easy for _you_ to say. You're a guy," she said, her bitchface making me distracted and at a loss. Well, I actually just laughed in her face; I turned purple. I was so used to being mistaken for a boy that I just lost it. People in school always made fun of me for how "manly" I looked; it hurt, and even my Mamma tried to make me more girly. She failed miserably everytime. So, this girl, I looked like a total idiot in front of her, but her face went blank. I regained my self control and looked at her straight in the eye, sighing.

"You got it all wrong," I said, looking at her with my lips parted. "I'm actually a girl."

"Give me a break," she replied. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

"I'm serious," I said. "I just get mistaken for a guy all the time."

"Yeah, sure," she answered with disbelief, opening the commercial fridge to take out another thing of milk and walking away to the register. I ran after her and went back behind the register, looking at the girl with a smirk as I rang up the carton of milk.

"Want me to prove it?" I winked.

"Ugh," she scoffed. "No!"

"Then why won't you believe me?" I asked. She proceeded to take out a notepad, and it didn't take me too long to find out she was writing down her phone number. As she gave me the money in exchange for change, the slip of paper was given with the cash. I looked down at it and shook my head.

"Come to think of it, you're pretty cute," she said, batting her eyelashes at me. I lost it; my heart raced like crazy. "I'm Melissa, by the way."

"Annika," I replied.

"You're not a girl. There's no way," she said, shaking her head. Her bitchface came back, and I laughed.

"My name is Annika," I told her.

"Call me," she said, about to leave the store with the carton of milk.

"Even though I'm a girl?" I asked in shock. Was she serious? Well, either way, she didn't answer me. As she left, I just checked her out—she had a nice ass.

So, I ended up calling her that night. I thought she gave me a fake number as a sick joke, but I was shocked when she answered the phone. I was also high as a kite, and I was working on my second joint of that night. I wasn't nervous like an idiot—I was relaxed as I heard her pick up; Richie was next to me doing his own thing. I looked over to see it was coke arranged in lines as I heard the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hello?"

"It's me," I said. "Annika."

"Oh, hello," she said.

"Well, you wanted me to call you," I stated. "Where do we go from here?" I took a puff of the ganja as I heard her sigh.

"Well…" She trailed off. "Let's hear your answer."

"I think you should go out with me," I said. I can't believe how direct I was! Wow, good going, Annika! But then, she laughed haughtily.

"What?" she asked.

"Yes. I am asking you out," I said. What did I get myself into? She'd say no anyways.

"Saturday?" Oh, uh…ok. I was surprised for sure.

"Yup," I said.

We talked for about two hours that night, and that Saturday was our first date. Melissa…pretty, eighteen-year old Melissa…she was my first relationship. She got snippy with me and was moody, but I liked her a lot. What I found funny was that she thought I was a guy even though I had a girl's name. Like, how the fuck does that work? Ugh…well, needless to say, she was my first time. Ok, didn't understand me the first time? I'll say it again. Read my lips—we went all the way! Yes! And it was real good, too! My God! I remember the look on her face when she first saw me naked; she looked down at my pelvis and blushed like crazy.

"Don't worry. I won't bite," I crooned softly, looking down at her as I pulled her curvy frame closer until her breasts smooshed against my flat chest. "Come here, baby."

_Jimmy looked at his daughter, remembering they were the same exact words he had told a woman he had serviced in his youth—he glanced down at one of his disfigured hands, shaking his head with a smirk._

I pressed my lips to hers—she tasted like sugar, but better. We went to her bed, and I was on top, trailing my lips down her neck and to her rack; she had a nice one, and I licked each of her breasts all over, sucking the weight of them as I reach down to feel her through her panties. Just having sex with a woman…well…it made me feel so alive. For pretty much the whole night, I made her body shake and I made her scream out for God—fuck, who am I kidding? I _was_ God; a god with an enthusiastic tongue and fingers that touched the right spots. The taste of her dripping womanhood made me so aroused; I was literally going to scream myself. Better yet was when I grinded myself against her—it was bliss, just feeling our liquid sex mingling until we climaxed. We fell asleep; my head was nestled on her boobs—it was real damn good.

We slept together like that a few more times. For a second, I thought each time got better and better. Actually, within two or three months, she broke up with me. I didn't even see it coming—she was distant for a week and a half until she finally called me up. She was very trivial and cryptic at first, stuttering like a goat. Turns out…well…she liked someone else. I felt pretty bad, but she hurled an insult at me. So uncalled for.

"At least this guy has a schlong," she told me. I rolled my eyes, and before hanging up the phone, I screeched.

"I'M NOT A GUY, YOU BITCH!" I slammed the phone back on the receiver and sulked forward, rubbing my eyes roughly with my hands as I pushed my frizzy bangs away from my face. Within a few moments, I saw Richie and Dale looking at me with concern; Dale was holding a bag of something. I didn't know what.

"Wow, you seem happy," Richie said, sitting next to me.

"That girl broke up with me," I said.

"Hey, chill out," Dale said, trying to be positive. His happy-go-lucky attitude annoys me so much when I'm angry or upset. He tossed the little bag on the coffee table, looking down at me. "I have something that can help."

"What is it?" I asked, taking a look at the baggie—there was a brown powder. It was weird as all hell.

"Smack," he replied. In my years of living up until that point, I had only smoked cigarettes, joints, drank liquor and used shrooms once at Woodstock; this was all so new, but I would try anything at that moment to take my mind off what had happened.

Dale and Richie showed me how to shoot it up, heat it up, and make the powder into liquid. I refused to use a dirty needle they had used, so I just requested a brand new one. Richie did the honor of giving me my first dose; Dale tied something around my upper arm to pump up my veins. Once the needle entered, the fluid ran through every vein in my body, traveling through every extremity until it reached my head; my brain swam in my head. It was better than sex, better than Melissa, better than anything—I had become hooked.

_Jimmy gasped in shock, and as he began to say something, Annika stopped him._

Just listen. Yeah, I know, I began an addiction. That wasn't the only thing. I snorted lines, too. Richie knew a dealer. He had really good stuff, like, the best stuff you can get for under twenty dollars. Every hit I got, I felt like I was touching heaven. Hell, even playing Led Zeppelin made me feel like I was on the stairway to heaven…God, it was good. I was fired from my job a couple months down the road. They found powder on my nose.

_"__What the hell, Annika?" Jimmy wondered with an emphatic tone, shocked his daughter would do such a thing._

Look, I know it's a stretch, but I didn't spend all my time doing shit. I went to parties and met other girls. When I was twenty-two, I can remember being with…uh…let me think…well, a lot of girls. I can remember their names, actually; Pamela, Rita, Jessica, Sandra…ugh…the list goes on. They all loved me. For the first time in my life, I felt accepted. Hell, I remember snorting coke off their cleavages, just burying my face in their tits. Oh yes, it was fucking amazing.

_"__Are you clean _now_?" her father asked. He didn't want to hear anymore, but this was one thing he wanted the answer to._

I was just getting to that. I was in the club, the disco. It was my first trip to a disco, but not my last. I had snorted a couple lines and shot up before going. I even took a happy pill. Phew, I was crazy! That dance floor was insanely awesome! I mean, Donna Summer was playing. Ain't nothing better. I was wearing my…my white suit with a black shirt under it. It buttoned up and had a long collar. I was fresh to death! But…then I bumped into someone and they pretty much fell on the dance floor. I felt really bad for who I knocked over, so I helped her up.

"Are you alright?" I asked. That's when she looked at me.

She had to have been the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. It wasn't like first laying eyes on the next sleaze I'd have a fling with; this was serious shit right here. Her eyes are…oh god, they were like ice…like, oh my god, like really blue. Her hair is very long, and it…ok, you know how Elina's hair so blonde it's white?

_"__Yeah," Jimmy replied, looking at her and listening to her._

Well, her hair is like that, but black. Intensely black. Down to her ass….straight…flowing…she was wearing a circlet-styled headband when I met her. And a pretty dress, frilled on the top. Audrey Trenton, that's her name.

_"__Is she your girlfriend?" her father asked._

Well, she has a special place in my heart. I think it was love at first sight, and it wasn't the drugs doing it to me. I knew they had worn off. Turns out she hit her head a bit while falling, so I took her to a table nearby and put some ice in a napkin for her in case, and that's when our eyes met for real, in a gaze that lasted at least a minute. We couldn't keep our eyes off each other; I was in a state of shock. It was like a void in my heart had been filled up just by being with her.

"Uh…" I was very dumbfounded by the feelings I had developed toward her.

"Thank you…for…uh…" I could tell she was also nervous. There was definitely a connection between us.

"Picking you up?" I had asked, laughing a bit. She smiled back at me, her eyes glittering at me like blue diamonds.

"Yeah," she replied, taking the ice-filled napkin off her head.

"My…you are really beautiful," I said. There I was, being direct again.

"Well, aren't you kind?" she smiled, blushing like a strawberry. I smiled back at her, just admiring her beauty. "What is your name?"

"I'm Annika," I replied.

"Huh," she muttered; here I am thinking, I'm in trouble. "You're a _woman_?"

"Yeah," I replied. There was no way she would want to be with me. She was too beautiful and probably straight.

"What a shame, you'd make such a handsome man," she said.

"You too?!" I snapped. I don't know what got into me—I was tired of it being such a surprise that I had a vagina. Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

"What is your problem?" she asked. I was surprised she was as assertive as she was.

"Look, I'm very sorry," I said, shaking my head as I felt myself cool my jets. I made up an excuse; "I had too many drinks. I'm sorry I knocked you down, too." I wasn't drunk; I only had one drink that whole night.

"It's ok, really. I'm the one that should be sorry," she told me, taking a breath. "If I offended you, then—" I shook my head and waved my hand.

"No, it happens all the time. People are quick to judge," I said. "I've gotten used to it. See, people think I'm a man because…well…I'm tall and I have no boobs."

"Are you sure there isn't something wrong with you?" she asked me. I still didn't know her name at that point.

"I never got it checked. I never cared to, and where I came from, the doctor is a couple miles away," I replied. "It wasn't like my dad could just take me to the doctor anytime. He worked pretty hard."

"Huh," she muttered. She raised her eyebrows for a brief moment. "I'm Audrey."

"A pleasure," I said, shaking her hand. It felt so soft, much like holding _mamma_'s hand, you know?

_"__I know what you mean," Jimmy replied with a slight smile. "So…what happened to her?"_

Well, that night, she agreed to dance with me, and I was pretty happy. I offered to buy her a drink, but she didn't really want one. So we just danced…then, I walked her home. We talked the whole way about, you know, things. Like how _mamma_ is from Sweden and how you own land—

_"__Did you tell her I was in a freak show?" he asked, joking._

Nah, I didn't bother, honestly. Ok, what was I saying…oh! So from that night on, we were inseparable. We still are, in a way. She's back in New York, she in college to be a nurse. When she first found out I was addicted to heroin and cocaine, she got me help. Put me in a twelve-step program. It was tedious, but it really helped me. The first few weeks was a living hell; withdrawals are no joke. IU was sick as a dog. The important thing is that I've been clean for the past three years or so. I even got my writing discovered and I've been writing songs as a lyricist for a lounge. They needed some original work, so I gave them some songs I wrote. I've been making good money. I spent a lot just showering Audrey with gifts and giving her money to shop if she needed stuff. But…a couple weeks ago, she said she wanted a break.

_"__Really? After three years?" he asked his daughter._

Well, yeah. I'm still sad by it…she told me she wanted to focus on school and her internships she's been doing to become certified to practice. I respected her decision, but at the same time, I fear she may grow apart from me. I love her so much, and I won't ever let anyone harm her or whatever the case may be. I sent her a letter before coming here. I miss her. I will wait for her as long as she needs it.

* * *

><p>"If she needs to take care of business, that's what she has to do," Jimmy told her. The look in Annika's eyes was forlorn and morose—she missed her so much.<p>

"I would give anything to be holding her right now. You don't understand how much I love her. It overwhelms me to the point where I haven't eaten in _days_," she replied.

"Holy shit," her father answered, a look of disbelief in his middle-aged face.

"That cake Elina gave me earlier was the first thing I've eaten since leaving," she replied.

"You can't _not_ eat, honey," he said, holding her hand in his deformed one. "It ain't good for you."

"I don't care about me. I'm past that point," Annika confessed sadly, looking down at her bare feet. "She is more important than anything in the world. I would take a bullet for her." Jimmy sighed, putting an arm over her shoulder. He thought of Britta; a memory played in his head from his days of being a freak show performer. He had saved the life of his future bride on the last night the troupe performed:

_"__BRITTA! GET DOWN!"_

_The firing continued, one shot after another, causing a massive hysteria and panic of unparalleled proportions in the show that had been peacefully taken place. Elsa, the owner of the show who was backstage, gathered up as many people as she could and tried to keep them calm, as did Dell the Strongman, who lent a hand in keeping microcephalic Pepper and Salty calm as they fidgeted and screamed in fear. Jimmy, who warned Britta upon hearing the first gunshot, ran to the stage and tackled her, holding her close and carrying her light body over his shoulder to get her away from the scene—someone had tried to kill her. He was ignorant to the fact that she was pregnant with Annika._

_"__HAHAHAHAHAHA! Take that! FREAKS! AND THOSE WHO SUPPORT YOU!" screamed a familiar voice as the two went to hide in the left wing of the stage._

"Dad?" Annika asked, nudging his upper arm to get him out of his painfully nostalgic state of consciousness. He gasped and shook his head rather rapidly, almost a jerk, and looked into her dark brown eyes.

"You know, I love your mother very much. I know how you feel," Jimmy explained. "I would die for her. I almost did at one point, but that's a story for another time." Annika looked at him strangely, but shrugged a bit.

"So…I noticed a lot of the family is gone," she said, recalling the absences of the petit-in-height Jyoti and microcephalic Pepper and Salty at her sister's party that evening. She did, however, manage to see conjoined twins Bette and Dot, Paul, Eve, and Suzy, the woman born without legs. "I see the twins are still here, and Suzy. What happened to everyone else? I know Paul and Eve got married."

"They divorced, but they're still friendly with each other," Jimmy said, realizing how much time had flown. "We invited them to her party. This has been the first birthday party for her in a long time. They're actually sleeping over in the barnhouse I had built for everyone."

"How could I forget that?" Annika chuckled.

"We were all distraught when Jyoti died," her father replied with a sad sigh. Annika's jaw dropped—how could that have been? She was so small, innocent, adorable; why her?

"_When_?!"

"Three years ago this December," Jimmy said. "She had a lung infection. We took her to the hospital a couple cities over, and we all visited her like no tomorrow and prayed she'd get better. She died before Christmas Eve."

"Oh, my _God_!" She felt a single tear roll down her cheek, but she wiped it away. "I never got to say goodbye…"

"She knows you loved her," he said, side-hugging his daughter. "Remember when you were little? You had some friends over? She always brought a smile to our faces. That is what we should remember.

"And Pepper? Salty? What happened to them?" she asked, remembering their simplistic ways of making the family and the other former carnies smile.

"I tried to fight the law on _that_ one, kid," Jimmy said. "They were taken to an institution two years ago. Apparently, Britta and the twins had taken them out to town to run errands with some help, but some family said they were making children uncomfortable in the playground. It was weird and I didn't believe a word of it. They couldn't be capable of doing that. We had a bit of a lawsuit, I lost…three thousand we were sued for. It really sucked. They took them to a mental hospital in Columbia, the city."

"Damn," Annika muttered. "The nerve!"

"Yeah…" Jimmy trailed off, checking his watch—he had been bonding with his eldest child and catching up for three hours. It was now 11:30 at night, and the fireflies had even retired to their dwelling for the night. He stood up and sighed, stretching his legs and arms—he felt a relief, even though his knee hurt.

"It's late," he said with a yawn.

"I'm sorry I kept you up," she replied, standing up and going down off the steps and to the ground with her dirtied-up bare feet. She looked at her dad, seeing the gray that had formed in his hair amongst several remaining auburn-brown sections, and slight wrinkling in his eyes and forehead. She ruffled her strawberry-blonde frizz and pushed it off her forehead, walking back to her Volkswagen camper.

"Will you be ok?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "I'll come join you for breakfast in the morning. It was nice catching up."

"I can say the same," he said with a smile, opening the front door of the house; he was amazed how much his daughter's life had changed, but in a way it was the tip of the iceberg. She was about to find out her real identity, he felt, as an individual.

"Goodnight!"

Jimmy walked up the stairs and to the bedroom, opening the door slightly ajar as he heard the voice of his wife speaking her Northern Germanic tongue to herself, so it seemed. He took a peek to see what had been going on in their bedroom, and he saw Britta kneeling before the edge of the bed, her head tilted upward as if to look to the ceiling or the stars in the night sky. Her hair, reaching the middle of her back, was wavy from the braided bun that held it in place all day, and the few gray hairs that had taken from were far from noticeable. Jimmy listened as she recited aloud:

"_Gud, som haver barnen kar,  
>se till mig som liten ar.<br>Vart jag mig i varl den rander  
>star min lycka i Gud's hander.<br>Lyckan kommer lyckan gar,  
>den Gud alskar lyckan far,<br>Amen._"

He stepped in as soon as she finished her prayer, and knelt beside her on the floor near the edge of their bed. He looked over at her ageless, beautiful face; she looked very solemn, but her eyes looked reflective, their vivid green sparks flying as her gaze was fixed on her gold cross pendant she had worn often.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Britta sighed, muttering to herself before answering.

"Ja," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"Annika…she…" Britta sighed. "I failed as a mother."

"Why the _hell_ would you say that?" Jimmy asked with disbelief, his tone sharp. "Do you _seriously_ want to wake up everyone?"

"Sigrid was right. When she grew in my belly, she was supposed to be a boy. Yet God made her a girl," she replied frantically, gripping her cross pendant as tears developed in her bright green eyes.

Without hesitation, Jimmy took his wife in his strong arms and let her tears be absorbed in his clothes shoulder, lulling her and trying to keep her calm. He was perfectly aware that she was religious, and that for the majority of her childhood, she had religious doctrine ingrained in her head. Was she becoming intolerant like her foster parents had been all those years ago? _She is not_, he thought to himself, _she ain't abusive. She's a good wife and a good mother. She didn't fail one bit._

"It's ok, please don't cry," he pleaded. "Please. You can't help what you can't fix. Maybe it's the case, but Annika's an adult. She's made a lot of…" He thought about her addiction to heroin and cocaine, as she revealed to him that night. He made something up, "_good_ decisions in her life. That does not mean you failed as a mother."

"I tried everything to make her fit in and be like a girl," Britta wept. "Braided her hair, made her wear dresses…gave her dolls to play with. Nothing. Nothing worked."

"It was her free will _not_ to wear those things," Jimmy told her, patting her back as her crying seemed to silence itself. "Remember the first day she came home wearing her friend's clothes? She was happy."

"Elina was the only daughter I really ever had. She is _very_ special," she said, trying to change the subject to alleviate her discomfort. "She inherited my gifts."

"She can cause fires," Jimmy said, smiling at the pride he held in his beloved, beautiful youngest daughter.

"And lift things," Britta said, reaching to point her finger toward the window. She concentrated, trying to slide it up, and sure enough, the window opened itself by the power of her will. As the creaking of the opening window stopped, Britta smiled as a sweet breeze came into the room—it lasted throughout the night


	5. Chapter 5

_Eek!_

Britta's eyes opened as the familiar-sounding shriek woke her up. She sluggishly sat up in the bed she shared with her husband, pulling back the brown and beige quilt as her small feet met the floor. She stood up, and Jimmy, who had been awoken by his wife's movements, sat up and looked over to see his wife making her way to the door to open it.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing," Britta replied, focusing on her husband and his ability to sleep—she raised her hand with her palm facing down, concentrating effortlessly to make her husband go back to sleep as she lowered her hand down slowly. He laid back in his side of the bed, put the covers back over himself, and shut his eyes, going back to sleep as she ventured out of the room. She used her best instincts as she heard a faint whining sound—it sounded like it was coming from the bathroom.

"Ew." Britta heard a whine again, approaching the bathroom door as she knocked; the door was closed, and she glanced out toward the hallway window to see that sunrise had only just begun.

"_Barna_," she whispered gingerly through the bathroom door. "What is going on in there?"

"_Mamma_?" It was definitely Elina's voice.

"_Ja_, it's me," Britta replied in their Swedish dialogue. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm bleeding," her daughter replied.

"Can I please come in?" her mother asked.

"Well, I'm not going to get any help with the door closed," Elina snapped.

"Don't speak to me like that," Britta answered, rolling her eyes. "I'm coming in there, ready or not."

Sighing, Elina watched as the door opened and her mother stepped in; she never felt so embarrassed in all her life, and it showed in her flushed red face. The front of her nightgown was spotted with blood, and Britta looked down to notice it was near her pelvic region. Taking a breath, she walked closer to her daughter, looking as her long, wavy platinum white-blond hair was loose and framed her angelic, unearthly face—she was just incredibly beautiful; she had become a woman that night.

"My God," Britta muttered, a slight smile sweeping across her lips.

"What is it?" Elina asked. "Is it…"

"_Ja_," she replied with a slow nod. "God gave you the gift of womanhood."

"I…I can't believe it," the girl replied, her mother taking her in her arms to embrace. Her daughter felt so warm, perhaps from the fires within, and when Elina rested her small chin on her mother's shoulder, Britta let her hand run down the length of her daughter's beautiful, golden-white hair. However, the woman was ill-at-ease due to Elina's breasts, round and full, that were pressing against her smaller chest.

"It's nothing to be ashamed about," Britta said. "You're a woman, now. That's a good thing."

"I need a change of clothes," her daughter replied, letting her mother go.

The girl was very tense and nervous, and in an instant, she went to her daughter's drawers and took out a fresh pair of panties with a sanitary napkin, a bra to support her full bosom, and a plain brown overdress with a white button-up shirt to be put on beneath it. The skirt on the dress was quite modest, reaching to below the girl's knees; to Britta, that ideal was important for any woman even in the days of flower power and liberation. She, herself, dressed quite puritanical with plain colors except on special occasions, long sleeves, and the vast majority of the clothing she had were dresses, skirts, and blouses. During the lives of both her daughters, she made sure each of them only wore skirts and dresses; she found something wrong with a woman wearing pants.

When Elina was dressed and ready for the day, Britta took her back to her room and sat her down at her desk chair, taking a hair ribbon and her daughter's hairbrush. The sun had risen a bit more that morning as Britta gathered up all of her daughter's beautiful, wavy platinum hair to brush it and neaten it out. She did not rush; Elina just sat there quietly as her mother worked the bristles slowly through mixed strands of virgin snow and white gold. Britta's own hair had been golden blonde, yet it paled in comparison to the brilliance and intensity of her daughter's pearly-gold locks.

"Your hair is so beautiful," her mother whispered.

"Yours is better. Mine's too white," Elina said.

"I'm getting older," Britta giggled, beginning a braid.

"You don't look old, though," she replied.

"Well," the woman sighed, braiding the strands slowly. "Let's just say the cold preserved my face."

"Is it really cold in Sweden like they say it is?" Elian asked out of curiosity.

Britta sighed, remembering her homeland exactly how she had left it; well, it wasn't like she had a real family—her real parents had died, and her foster parents treated her terribly because of the powers she possessed; their son was so deviant that he made the devil himself look like an angel. She was later sent to a mental hospital at age fifteen, where bad treatment continued by the doctors and nurses who treated her for something that didn't exist. She didn't even want to think about it—she loved America so much better than Sweden. Her life had been so much better even if the only reason she had been brought there was to perform in _Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities_; she made many friends and became a part of their big "family". She had met Jimmy while performing in the same troupe, and Jimmy had cracked open her shell during the time they had been friends. He was the only one she had grown to trust, and he was the only one to fully know her as a person and not just a girl who had telekinesis; in turn, she had seen past his deformed hands and into a kind, warm heart buried within underneath a tough exterior. She eventually fell in love with him, bore her violated soul for him to heal up with his own love, and they married in March 1954. The show had been shut down the month before after a catastrophe of unparalleled proportions.

"Everything and everyone is cold," Britta muttered. "You are all my family now. That is all that matters to me." She finished her daughter's braid, tying it off with the hair ribbon. Elina's intense hazel-green eyes sparkled up at her mother, giving her a sad stare. Britta knew there was something else she had to do; she kissed her daughter's defined cheek.

"We need to talk," she said.

Their talk was not entirely long, however—it mostly consisted of the birds and the bees and whatever was between the knees. Elina was embarrassed as all hell to have such a conversation, but she felt fortunate that it wasn't her father giving her the "talk"—she would have gone pale and died right before him in the chair. The girl felt squeamish and bewildered at how her mother stuttered, trying to find the right words to describe physical acts between two lovers. Britta noticed her daughter's defined cheekbones showing some red the entire time, and once their discussion was over, the girl sighed of relief.

"Don't have sex until you are married," the woman warned. Ironically, she had made love to Jimmy before they had been wed—she sighed subtly at her own hypocrisy.

"Does it hurt?" Elina asked. Britta remembered the night she had been violated by her foster brother—it had hurt so terribly she wanted to die; she had her virginity torn away from her like it was nothing. She took a sad breath and held her daughter's hand.

"Yes, very much," the woman answered; she then corrected herself as not to scare the young girl. "Well, it is something you get over. It goes away."

"Good," Elina said, standing up and making her way toward her bedroom door. "I'm hungry, _mamma_. Let's make breakfast." Britta got up and followed her daughter down the stairs to the kitchen. Once they reached their destination, Elina got out pancake mix, eggs, and bread to make toast; Britta looked into her daughter's fiery eyes encouragingly.

"Stay pure for as long as you can," she told her daughter. "Cherish it."

Jimmy woke up at five past 8:00 to the sound of women singing in perfect harmony with their powerful, angelic soprano voices. The smell of apple-pecan pancakes filled the house and travelled up the stairwell so that it met his nose, making him get up to trace the origin of the aroma as well as the ethereal singing that caught his attention:

_"__En sjömans största nöje är_

_Rio-rio-rej_

_Att hålla vackra flickor kär_

_Håll an så god__…"_

The sound became more and more familiar as the repetitive verses continued to charm his ears, taking each step down the stairs slowly to further admire the beautiful tune sung by the soprano voices. It seemed to echo through the house, adding to the angelic feel of whatever they were singing. He stopped by the doorway of the kitchen, having finally traced its source, dumbfounded to realize that his wife and daughter were making breakfast, singing to pass the time with their voices in perfect harmony:

_"__När stormen viner och åskan går_

_Rio-rio-rej_

_Då måst en sjöman på däcket stå_

_Håll an så god_

_När åskan dundrar knall på knall_

_Rio-rio-rej_

_Då står en man vid varje fall_

_Håll an så god__…"_

The song ended with Elina holding out her hand to conjure a large lick of fire—she aimed it at the stove and started it, a flare-up occurring and startling the two. Jimmy laughed, seeing the two jump back from the flames Elina had summoned to light the stove.

"Good morning, my angels," he said with a dimply smile.

After Britta poured wet pancake batter into an ignited skillet, she watched as her husband entered the kitchen, and he focused on the faces of his wife and daughter. Britta, at age forty-four, looked as though she hadn't aged a day; no wrinkles marred her youthful visage, nor were the gray strands of hair that she had noticeable because of her rich, golden hair color. The vibrant hue of her lush, green eyes had not faded with age, yet her body shape had definitely undergone some adjustments. She had given birth to five children, nursed every one of them with swollen, lactating breasts, and her hips had gotten wider. Jimmy always admired his wife greatly and the changes that happened in her body over the years. She had been a wonderful mother to their children but an even better wife to him; there were times where she was cold and distant, but she still tried her hardest to make sure that the entire household was happy. It was a wonder how after all those years, he still loved her. He walked toward his wife and gave her a peck on the lips.

"_God morgon_," Britta replied, looking up into her husband's dark brown eyes. He definitely had some age on him, being forty-eight years old, with graying auburn-brown hair and slight wrinkling near his eyes and in his forehead. She resumed with preparing breakfast while his eyes shifted to the true light in the room.

He looked at Elina, his beloved youngest daughter, whose extreme beauty and radiance lit up the room like the sun itself. Her platinum, white-blonde hair was braided with a few stray strands that had snuck out of the plait to hang over her forehead and near her ears. Her skin was fair and smooth, and her face was sculpted much like a marble statue from antiquity with her prominent cheekbones perfectly contrasting her small, heart-shaped jawline and her soft, pink lips. She had a straight, perfect nose without any distinctive ridges or bumps, and her thick, black eyelashes framed her passionate verdant hazel gaze gracefully. Even wearing modest clothing selected for her by her mother didn't stop people from noticing her blossoming, curvy frame; her breasts were rather full for a girl her age, and her waist was wasp and small—she definitely was more beautiful than Britta. Even within, she had a fire in a literal sense; her mother had special abilities that had been passed down to her. Elina had the power to conjure and manipulate fire, and if she did have other powers, she had yet to discover and use them to their full potential. Her lips smiled slightly at him, and he held out his arms for a hug.

"Good morning, sweetie," he said softly. Elina reached for a towel, cleaning her hands off before accepting his hug. Jimmy held his dear daughter close, feeling her excessive warmth as one of his deformed hands rubbed her upper back gently; Elina was a couple of inches taller than her mother. He let her go, looking down at her beautiful face and moving a few stray white strands away from her face.

"Hello, dad," she replied. He kissed her on the forehead gently.

"You sing just as beautifully as your mother," Jimmy said, letting his daughter go. No, that was an understatement—she sang _better_ than her mother. Elina cracked a few eggs and added milk and a bit of butter to a bowl, whisking them to make scrambled eggs as Christopher and Toby came in, their hair messy and unkempt from a rough night's sleep.

"Morning, boys," Jimmy said, a quick glance to his sons before looking back at Elina.

"Mornin'," Christopher answered, ruffling his messy brown hair. "Sleep well?"

"Yes," Jimmy replied, smiling as if in a daze. "The sound of two angels singing woke me up."

"I could've sworn we was at church," Toby wise-cracked, provoking a surprisingly subtle reaction from his father.

"Well, it _is_ Sunday," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, then, _Mamma_," Christopher said, looking at Britta as she finished up the pancakes. "We has to be at church in an hour or so. Pastor's gon' be mad if we late."

"We will need to hurry, then," Britta replied, bringing the pancakes to the dining room where Jules waited quietly at his usual seat. He saw his mother and smiled, giving her a polite wave.

"Mornin',_mamma_," he said, ruffling his chestnut hair.

"_God morgon_," she replied. Elina shuffled the plates and made sure there was silverware at every place setting while getting out the maple syrup and other necessities. Soon, Bette and Dot and Legless Suzy joined them at the table, but then as they sat down and greeted the family, Jimmy noticed Annika was not at the table. Sighing with worry, he looked at his beloved daughter Elina, and she gazed back at him.

"Elina, sweetie? Can you go out to Annika's camper and ask if she's going to come in here?" Jimmy asked. She nodded, getting up out of her seat and out of the dining room the front door. Bette and Dot glanced every which way, but the kinder twin smiled.

"Annika grew up so much," she said.

"I'll say," Dot said cynically. Jimmy looked at them both and smiled, taking the first bite of his food.

"Was she supposed to join us?" Suzy asked.

"Well, yeah. She's family, too. It don't mean she ain't anymore because she left. She'll always have a home here," Jimmy said.

When Elina spotted the blue Volkswagen camper parked a little further from their house, she walked to it and stepped up on the mini steps that led to the side door. She hesitated for a moment, believing her sister to be asleep or otherwise busy. She sighed, knocking three times before hearing a familiar voice and something that sounded like strumming.

"Come in."

Elina breathed softly and slowly opened the door, moving the wooden doorbeads that hung down in front of her to see a small, but comfortable interior with a bright maroon rug positioned over the bare, cold floor. There were two sectionals on each side to sit, and the one on the side were the door was had a disheveled blanket and pillow on it from the night before. The smell of sweet incense, which was about to go out at any time, filled the interior of the Volkswagen with a pleasing aroma. A large, tie-dye tapestry hung behind Annika, whose shoulder-length, strawberry-blonde frizz hung over her face sloppily as she turned a tuning peg on her plain acoustic guitar, strumming it repeatedly and listening closely to hear if it was in tune.

"Annika? Uh…" Elina looked at the lava lamp on the surface next to the sectional across from her bed space. "Dad sent me in here to ask if you were hungry. We just made breakfast." She ignored her, repeatedly striking the string until it was crystal clear and in tune; then, her dark eyes met Elina's fiery ones as she strummed all of the strings at once.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, so if you want something to eat, you can join us," the girl said. "Or, I can take a plate to you in here, if you're busy." The woman shook her head, taking a deep sigh.

"I…I can't eat, Elina," Annika said directly. "I have too much on my mind."

"Oh," the girl said. "Like what?" She took a seat across from her sister, who stared back at her sadly, an anguished expression on her face.

"You wouldn't understand," the woman replied quietly in her low-pitched voice, preparing her fingers on the fretboard as if to play a chord.

"I'm thirteen now, Annika," Elian reminded her calmly. "I think I can handle it."

"No, no," the woman answered, glancing over at the notebook in which she had been composing a song with lyrics. "If I _did_ tell you, you'd probably be a fart about it. So, don't push your luck."

"I'm not trying to push my luck. I'm just concerned," her little sister said. "You know, dad says you will always have a home here, and—"

"And _mamma _don't give a shit about me," Annika said.

"You sound ridiculous," Elina sneered, crossing her arms as fire built up inside her. Annika chuckled cynically, rolling her eyes as she began to strum a few chords and corresponding archipeggios, blocking out whatever could distract her from her music.

"What exactly are you doing anyway that's so important?" the girl asked.

"Writing a song. It ain't finished so don't be asking me to play it," Annika replied, ending the strumming on a soft note. She came off as anguished, and Elina wanted to get to the bottom of it even if she had to pry her open like a geode.

"I never knew you played at all," Elina said, crossing her legs at the ankles.

"You were a baby when I started. I'm older, remember?" Annika asked, her tone having calmed a bit.

"I don't remember that, though." Elina stood up from her place on the opposing sectional and made her way to the door, coming out; Anikka stopped her with a few words.

"Elina," she began. The girl looked back at her.

"Yeah?"

"I'll be in there in a couple minutes," she said. Elina smiled; _that's the spirit_, she thought.


	6. Chapter 6

After the walk home from school the following day, Elina, holding her books to her chest with her backpack on her back, went to Annika's camper outside the house to find her sitting on the mini steps in front of the side door, strumming a melodious tune on her guitar. However, something about it sounded heartrending, but she listened anyways.

"Oh, hey Elina," she said. "How was school?"

"It could've been better," Elina replied, sitting down next to her sister on the mini steps. Annika began to strum again, and the girl could notice a tear in her eye.

"Hey, what's the matter?" the girl asked; her tone turned cynical. "Oh…that's right. You don't want to tell me."

"Well, it's just I wrote this song finally," Annika replied. "My mind's somewhat clear. Just some meditation to do the trick before songwriting."

"Oh, it's finished?"

"Yeah, wanna listen?"

"Sure."

Annika cleared her throat a bit, positioning her fingers on the correct strings overlapping the fretboard as she began to strum an archipeggio and a few chords that sounded similar. Her singing voice was a deep contralto; very soulful and emotional, so low it almost sounded like a male tenor as she began to sing:

_"__If you could read my mind love,  
>What a tale my thoughts could tell.<br>Just like an old time movie,  
>'Bout a ghost from a wishing well.<br>In a castle dark or a fortress strong  
>With chains upon my feet.<br>You know that ghost is me…"_

The girl seemed to further understand the song's meaning even though she was only singing the first verse. It sounded beautiful, but as the song went on, Elina could further sense Annika's inner emotions—_why hadn't she told me she was hurt inside_, she asked herself as she listened further:

_"__If I could read your mind love,  
>What a tale your thoughts could tell.<br>Just like a paperback novel,  
>The kind the drugstore sells.<br>When you reach the part where the heartaches come,  
>the hero would be me.<br>But heroes often fail.  
>And you won't read that book again<br>Because the ending's just too hard to take…_

_I never thought I could act this way  
>And I've got to say that I just don't get it.<br>I don't know where we went wrong  
>But the feeling's here and I wish you were here now…"<em>

The song finished, leaving a tear in Elina's eye—it was so heartbreaking, but beautiful. The lyrics were deep and meaningful, and her sister's soulful contralto voice added to the somber tone of the song. She understood now; she felt hurt, and channeled it into her music.

"You've been hurt," Elina sighed, wiping the tear away. "Heartbroken."

"Well, I guess you can say that," Annika said, being careful not to reveal the slightest bit of information about her sexual orientation or identity. Knowing how Britta raised the children as good Christians, who knows how Elina would've taken the news? Britta was homophobic, and chances were, Elina was as well. Her father was the only one she could talk about these things with, strangely enough.

"Did you write this for them?" she asked.

"Yeah. I love this person_very_ much…" Annika trailed off and sighed, looking down at her guitar with anguish. "More than anyone I've ever felt anything toward before." She looked over at her sister's beautiful face. "You'll understand when you're older." Elina sighed dreamily, thinking of how beautiful the idea of love is.

"I can't wait to fall in love," she said.

"Elina, that can wait," Annika said, taking a cigarette out of the pocket of her distressed denim jacket. "You're only thirteen years old."

"Now you sound like dad," the girl said, watching as Annika's hands felt around the pockets in her jacket and in her pants to find a lighter.

"Shit," she muttered—she then remembered that her sister had pyrokinesis. She leaned in, the butt of the cigarette in her mouth; the girl was confused. "Can you light it?"

Elina looked at her strangely, but held up her hand to extend her index finger ever so slightly. She concentrated until a candle-sized flame emitted from her finger, lifting it to the end of Annika's cigarette and allowing the flame to catch onto it. As she took her first drag, Elina's loss of concentration allowed the flame to go out; Annika looked at her as she blew the smoke out.

"You know, I never knew why I didn't get any powers," she said calmly, thinking. "You and _mamma_ have them, but the boys don't. Dad doesn't have any at all, so…what's the deal?"

"I don't know," Elina replied with a shrug, her beautiful, passionate eyes fixed downward. "I guess God gave me a gift for a reason." Annika giggled, nearly coughing from her statement; _ridiculous_, she thought.

"God," she said sarcastically.

"Don't talk about God like that," Elina warned.

"Why? What's the worst that'll happen?" Annika asked, taking another drag of her cigarette.

"He'll punish you," the girl replied.

"Oh, come on, you really believe all that? I'd expect you to be more grown-up about it," Annika answered, standing up and opening the door to her camper with her guitar and notebook in hand. She placed the guitar in its hard case and put her notebook of lyrics on the table, reaching underneath into the mini fridge to grab a bottle of beer.

"Apparently, you don't believe in God," Elina said sadly with a frown, sitting down on the section adjacent to the door.

"You're right, I don't," Annika admitted. "I'm an atheist. There _is _no God. The idea of 'God' is entirely manmade and obviously someone didn't know their facts when they came up with the idea of 'religion', even."

"How could you not believe? God is very real!" Elina exclaimed passionately. "He offers salvation to those who are faithful to him. We went to church yesterday, and I know why you didn't want to go. At least now I do."

"Ugh," Annika muttered quietly as she sipped her beer. "Elina, you need a grip on reality. God is just an idea. There's no man up in the sky telling you what you have to do in order to be a good person. It just doesn't make sense."

"But _mamma_ and I were given powers. He gave us powers," Elina argued.

"Oh, here we go, now," Annika said cynically. "You were born with them. God didn't _give_ them to you. It's in your genetics, and supposedly in mine, too, but I honestly don't think I have any."

"Why don't you _try_?"

"I have," Annika responded emphatically. "I don't have powers like you and _mamma_. I don't know why, but I don't, and if I _did_, I think I would've had them by now."

"How do you live life without God?" Elina asked. "That _my_ question. I can't picture anything but."

"Ok," Annika replied, walking past toward her bed spot and crouching down to access a mini bookcase with a sliding door. Elina leaned over to take a short peek before she saw her sister take a novel-sized book, handing it to her. The cover was appealing with a translucent figure in a lotus meditation position with colored circles down a line in the middle of their body. The top of the figure's head was illuminated, perhaps with an aura, and the paperback cover was indigo in color.

"I'm going to let you borrow this," her older sister said, handing her the book. "Don't make any judgments. Don't even say it was me that gave it to you. Just _read it_."

"What is it for?"

"Meditation. Astral travel. Spiritual cleansing," Annika listed. "You need it. Believe me."

"Oh," Elina said, standing up to leave the camper after putting it in her bookbag. She turned back as she opened the door. "Thank you."

"No problem," Annika replied.

As the girl left, the woman opened the drawer beneath her dining table, taking out a photo of a lovely, black-haired girl with stunning blue eyes that shined like diamonds. It was one of two photos Annika kept of her, and in this one, she bore her pearly whites in a happy, cheerful smile. _Audrey_, she thought, _I love you, and the moment we get back together, I will vow to spend the rest of my life with you. I've thought about you non-stop; I can't eat, I can't sleep, and every strum of my guitar I think of you. You are my heart's content._

Elina walked up the steps onto her porch when she heard a speeding car park itself in the front of the house. Dot and Bette, who had been sitting on the porch swing reading a book, were startled by the sudden screech of tires; they stood up and both looked down in the distance at Annika, Elina and then to the dark red car that was parked outside the Darling family home. Bette and Dot saw a man come out of the car, and he was strangely familiar. The man was elderly and overweight, but had huge shoulders and upper arms, and had a black fedora on top of his bald head. Brown leather suspenders held his old blue jeans up over his sky blue, short-sleeved shirt, and he looked quite intimidating with his narrow blue eyes. Annika stared at the stranger, walking forward to get a better look at him—she did not seem afraid.

"Nice car," she began, trying to be friendly. "Uh…can I ask who you are?"

"That ain't important," the man said in his gruff voice. "Is there a…" He paused for a moment, staring quickly into the masculine woman's dark eyes. "Jimmy Darling. Does he live here?"

"I'm not answering until you tell me who you are," the woman answered assertively. The man looked at her again; he looked like he was about to deck her in half.

"Watch your mouth, sir," the old man hissed.

"I'm not a 'sir', sir," Annika replied forcefully, her gaze narrowing into the old man's. Now he was really angry; how dare she test his patience?

"Don't you—"

"Sir?" Elina cut in, staring at the man, who looked back to see her fiery eyes burning holes in his soul. Even his own temper seemed to char by the way she looked at him, and for the first time in his conscious memory, he was afraid of a member of the opposite sex. He approached the girl, who felt intimidated and slinked back a little bit.

"Who are you?" he asked, aggression reduced in his rough tone.

"I am his daughter," she said clearly, taking a short glance at Annika. "_We_ are his daughters."

The old man admired her beautiful, ethereal face as he held it in his thick, calloused hands; Elina felt nervous and beyond uncomfortable as his thumbs felt her defined cheekbones and her heart-shaped jawline. Her eyes met his, and the fire in her soul radiated harshly to burn the holes in his soul even deeper. He was indeed intimidated by her, yet he stared at every detail of her beautiful face to find any resemblance to her father. He found none, and a dead giveaway was her pearlescent, platinum blonde hair that was pulled back but cascaded down her front in graceful waves.

"There's no way," the man said with a grin.

"Let me go," Elina said, trying to maintain calm even though she felt like the anger within would summon fire without her control.

"Get away from her," Annika ordered, walking behind her sister and pulling her away from the old man. Elian felt pressure on her lower face; the man refused to let go.

"HEY!" a voice yelled out. "Let her go!"

The old man looked over, and in the distance stood Jimmy, an angry expression on his face as he walked over to his daughters, staring at the old man and gasping at how familiar he looked. He let Elina's face go, and Annika held her protectively as they watched their father stare at the elderly man in shock. In turn, the old man stared at Jimmy in shock, analyzing the signs of age that had appeared in his face since he had last seen him; he also shot a glance at the deformed hands he was known for at one time. Their father knew exactly who this was—they had a past together.

"_Dell?_"

"Yup, that's me," the old man answered.

"Wha-" He paused, looking back at his daughters, especially at Elina, before looking back at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I managed to find you," he said.

"How?" Jimmy asked, looking at him strangely. How could he just appear in his life out of the blue like that? "You didn't want to live with here. You ran off with Desiree and did your own thing."

"She's no more. We split a long time ago," Dell replied.

"But why are_you_ here?" Jimmy asked. "If you came to cause trouble and terrorize my family, get outta here." The old man took a sigh, leaning back against the hood of his car and making it tilt ever so slightly.

"An old man needs a place to stay," Dell stated simply.

"_What_?" Jimmy asked with disbelief. "We have enough people living here!"

"It don't look like much," the old man replied hoarsely. "I can see an empty barn in the distance over there." Jimmy turned to his daughters, pointing to the front door as he gazed at each of their faces.

"Get in the house, I'll be in there in a bit," he instructed.

As they went in, Jimmy looked at Dell, feeling extremely awkward. He had lied when he said a lot of people were still living there, mainly because he disliked him and didn't want to put his family at risk. Even greater, he didn't want his good reputation as a hard-working landowner in Barnwell to go down the toilet due to the fact that he had a past a freak show performer; tensions were strong between the two back then, but who knows what that could do to them now?

"Ethel still here?" Dell asked.

"She died in '58," Jimmy replied. "And I don't _ever _want to see you putting your hands on my daughter again!"

"There's no way she's yours," the old man sneered.

"She is," Jimmy replied, a cynical look on his face.

"She looks like you plucked her out of the Snow Kingdom," the old man said arrogantly. Jimmy gritted his teeth, trying to control his anger so that no further problems would arise. Then, out of the blue, Dell changed the subject back to living on their farm.

"Alright, I'm willing to compromise," the old man said. "Name your price."

"On what?"

"I'll pay you whatever you want. As rent. To live here," Dell offered. Jimmy looked at him, an anguished look on his face as he saw the old man take out his wallet.

"Rent?" he asked. He never charged rent to any of the former carnies—they were all his family; he could never do that. The least they could've done in exchange for a home was help Jimmy work the land by harvesting, plowing, planting, and the whole nine yards.

"Yeah, name your price," Dell offered. "One hundred? Two hundred? Three hundred? Five hundred? How about seven hundred?"

"Nothing," Jimmy snapped.

"Seriously? You look like you could use the money, and maybe the labor," the old man said. "I haven't lost my touch, you know."

"I can see that. You hurt my daughter's face," Jimmy sneered, the anger coming back again.

"Alright, I didn't know it was your daughter," Dell reluctantly said. "I'm sorry."

"It's going to take a lot more than sorry to convince me to let you live here," he said. Elina was his pride and joy; anyone who harmed even a hair on her head was going to pay, at least in Jimmy's eyes.

"How about even more than a couple hundred dollars a month?" the old man offered. "Maybe a thousand?"

"Until my wife comes home, we're not negotiating _anything_," Jimmy said, staring at him coldly.

* * *

><p>Britta had been gone to the grocery store for the hour, pushing a metal shopping cart as she worked her way down the aisles of fruit, vegetables, dairy, grains, meats, health products, beauty products, and cleaning supplies to get everything that had been requested of her on the list she brought. She stopped in by a commercial fridge where hickory honey ham was on sale for twenty percent off. Seeing it was the last one, another woman, much older than Britta, also saw the lone ham on the shelf through the glass as she stopped her carriage right near the Swede's.<p>

"Uh…" Britta trailed off, her eyes gazing into the dark brown ones of the old woman.

"You were here first, miss," the old woman said.

"You may have it," the ageless blonde woman said. "Go."

"Are you sure?"

"_Ja_," Britta answered kindly.

The woman opened the glass door and took out the ham, which was rather lightweight for its size. She put it in the front of the carriage, and looked at Britta, whose green eyes glittered at her. Her golden hair was up in a thick, tight bun with no hints of the few gray strands that had begun to make themselves known. The old woman smiled; she looked so familiar to her.

"You remind me of someone," she said.

"Oh?" Britta was confused.

"I remember, it was a long time ago. Perhaps twenty-five years ago," the woman began. "I went to see a freak show down in Florida with my family. My husband raved about a young girl who had powers."

"Oh?" Britta's attention fixed on the woman, listening to her tell her story.

"She was quite young," the woman said with a smile. "But she was _very_ beautiful. Blonde hair, green eyes. She had powers. She could have lifted this whole store off its foundation with only her mind. She was incredible, and when we saw her, we were amazed. After the show, almost everyone from the audience went to her asking for autographs and to have her picture taken. She was the true star of the show, and you really look like her, miss."

Britta looked at her, a slight smile hidden in her lips as her eyes sparkled at the old woman. _That girl was me_, she thought as she reminisced on memories of performing with _Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities_ as the major headliner and most popular act to grace Elsa's stage. She had captivated audiences with her angelic presence and, more importantly, the powers that made her unique. Even the fellow carnies would watch backstage as she levitated objects and, on occasion, herself. Britta continued to look at her, remembering the experience of being on a stage.

"I read the newspaper one day to see that the show was shut down. There was a terrible shooting," the woman said with a frown. "People died, and so many were hurt. There were even rumors that the perpetrator died of a heart attack during the crime. It was terrible."

Britta remembered what she was saying all too well, but she didn't want to give herself away; she no longer wanted to be known for the gifts she possessed, and she didn't want to put her family in possible jeopardy especially since Elina also had powers—she knew her husband would kill anyone who tried to harm his daughter, let alone try to exploit her for her abilities if she were found out about.

"I'm sure it was," Britta said emotionlessly. The woman gave her another look, analyzing her facial features; her freckles from her youth were no longer there, and she was fuller figured. Other than that, she had not changed as far as aging would take her.

"Hmm," the old woman smiled. "Are _you_ her?"

"I believe you're mistaken," the Swede said.

With that being said, Britta rolled her carriage away from the old stranger down until she got to the dairy aisle; a thousand worries ran through her mind as she rolled the shopping cart away. That woman did not look familiar, but she knew she had to be careful—they had moved away from Jupiter for a reason, even if it was to escape their old life behind closed curtains.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys! This is Keri, the author. I rarely ever put captions like this, but if you've been reading my stories, <span>THANK YOU<span> for the support (**reviews, favorites, follows, etc**) 3**

**I love hearing you guys and whatever opinions you have, and if you have any ideas for a future chapter, leave it in the Reviews!**

**Special thanks to NotMarge, Weezy815, and GraffitiArtist14 for reading both stories in my mini AHS: Freak Show "series", and a very special thank-you to MaliceInWonderland23 for giving me the idea to do a sequel of _Uplift_. Your review put the bug in my ear to write more about Jimmy/Britta ("Brimmy", as one called them in the Reviews). I never expected this, let alone the first one, to be a success so thanks! :3**


	7. Chapter 7

"Dad, are you serious?" Christopher asked later that day after coming home from work, his clothes grimy from hours of repairing vehicles and motorcycles. "You don't even know 'im!"

"Yes, I do," Jimmy replied. "He and I were in the freak show together way back."

"But how'd he find you?" his son asked.

"He still didn't tell me," Jimmy said, rolling his eyes. "He offered us two thousand dollars rent each month for living here, and he is going to work for us."

"Sounds like a fuck-job," Christopher sneered.

"Watch your mouth," his father said authoritatively. "We need the labor and honestly, I think he has a point. If anything, I'm _his_ boss, now."

"I can see you guys hate each other," Christopher said, turning on the bathroom faucet to soak a washcloth. He took it to his face and scrubbed off his grime, working his way down his defined neck.

"Makes it easier for me, though," Jimmy said. "I'm getting his money, and he is working for free. Plus, if he does anything to hurt you, I'm kicking his ass out._I_ own this property, and he ain't gonna mess with me."

"I see your logic, but…what about _mamma_? Did she agree?" Christopher asked, his brown eyes staring out the bathroom doorway to his father as he continued to freshen up at the sink.

"I did talk to her," Jimmy said. "She seemed to not want him here, but then I talked her into it. It's more money for us, you know?"

Jimmy remembered just two hours earlier when Britta returned home from grocery shopping; as soon as all the bags were brought into the house, she asked who the red car belonged to. He sighed and looked her straight in the eye, explaining the situation as best as he could before she had a chance to protest.

"How did he find us?" she had asked.

"He won't tell me, and honestly, we need the money," Jimmy replied.

"I don't think it is a good idea," Britta had told him, putting the loaf of bread up in the cupboard with the newly-refilled tub of sugar.

"Britta, I know he's a jerk," Jimmy said, standing behind her and staring at the back of her golden blonde bun.

"Why do you let him stay?" she asked forcefully. "I will tell him to leave myself, if I have to. He's dangerous."

"I told him to stay away from Elina," the man told his wife. She gazed back at him with disbelief—why was he so biased?

"What about your sons?" she asked, staring back at him with the same incredulity that began seconds before.

"They're tough. They can fend for themselves. As for Annika, I don't worry about her," Jimmy said, going to the last full paper bag on the table and taking out a head of cabbage, a bag of carrots, and other things she had bought.

"That man may break them in half," Britta objected.

"Not if I call the cops, he won't. The second he lays a hand on _anyone_, he's out," Jimmy stated clearly. "Just think of the money and free labor we are going to get. Farmer's market is in another week and a half. He ain't getting any percentage of what we make this year. He's working entirely for free. That goes to show that I can turn tables on him for being a jerk back then." Britta sighed reluctantly, looking down at her clasped hands before staring up at her husband.

"Very well," she said.

That evening at dinner, the whole family sat in the dining room; Jimmy was at his head of the table, but Britta, who usually occupied the other end, sat diagonally from his to his right with Elina across from her. Next to the young, platinum-haired beauty was Annika, and across from her were Jules and Toby. Christopher sat next to his older sister, while the conjoined twins and Suzy sat closer to the end of the table, where Dell sat loading his plate with what was readily available on the table—peas, mashed potatoes, and even overfilling his bowl with the soup Britta made. Bette had a smile on her face upon trying the soup, which contained diced potatoes, onions, cabbage, and pieces of leftover ham she had kept in the freezer.

"It's delicious," she said cheerfully. "What kind of broth is this?"

"It was from the ham," Britta replied with a slight smile. Dell, who looked at the twins and how they had aged as one body, cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.

"You girls sure have changed," he said, referring to the fact that their hairstyles, short, dark brown bobs held back with headbands, had not changed since the freak show was shut down. Now, Dot and Bette had signs of aging in their faces and hair with slight graying and wrinkling.

"Look in the mirror," Dot sneered coldly.

"And _you_ haven't changed for sure," Dell said aggressively.

"Dell," Jimmy said, catching his attention. "You still didn't answer me. How did you find me?"

"Oh, the phonebook. Has your address in it. James Darling…" Dell trailed off before continuing. "12 Grant Pathway. Barnwell, South Carolina."

"Why go through so much trouble?" Jimmy asked, sipping from his drink while noticing Britta and Elina staring down the table at the frightening old man.

"Because I needed a place to stay, and now I have one," Dell said, stuffing his face with a big spoonful of mashed potatoes.

"Hey," Toby said across the table to his brother Jules, but Christopher stared at him as well. "Toss me a roll, will ya?"

"Little basket's right there," Christopher said, a smirk on his face as he pointed to the bread.

"Really?" Toby asked cynically, grabbing a warm, freshly-baked roll from the small basket that held them. He took a bite, and looked down at his food before washing down the bread with a swig of water. Dell then looked further down the table at Annika, who was eating her food quietly without any involvement in their conversation.

"And you," he began, his mouth full of food. "I'm sorry I called you a man. I bet you get that a lot though." The woman rolled her eyes, swallowing her food and taking a drink—her frizzy strawberry-blonde hair had still been wet from her bath earlier that day.

"It's ok," Annika said with slight arrogance, staring at him fiercely. He then proceeded to look at Britta and Elina, noticing their physical differences and similarities as mother and daughter. The young girl was definitely more beautiful, for sure, and he looked at the platinum, white-gold hair that set her apart from everyone at the table.

"You, girl," Dell said, snapping his fingers to get Elina's attention; Jimmy looked at Dell and rolled his eyes at his rude behavior. "I'm sorry I grabbed you too hard earlier." The girl did not answer, making him impatiently mad.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" he exclaimed, intimidating the girl enough to make her put her napkin on her plate and leave the table. Jimmy grunted, watching his daughter leave before glaring at the former strongman hatefully.

"Dell! Really?!" he exclaimed. Britta, shaking her head, rested her elbow on the table and leaned forward with her forehead in her palm. Toby's temper flared up as well, glancing over at the old man with disdain.

"Why'd you have to do that? Now, my lil' sister's upset," the young man said as he fixed his blond hair to get a better look at him.

"I only apologized, and if you were smart, you'd stop talking to me like that!" Dell hissed.

"I told you not to talk to my daughter, bub," Jimmy stated aggressively. "Don't make me kick you out."

"What the hell are _you_ gonna do?" Dell retorted.

"Anything to make you leave, Dell! Don't make me do that!" he shouted.

Jimmy stormed out of the dining room to try and find his daughter, walking through a few rooms just to catch a glimpse of her anywhere he looked. He finally reached the living room to see her sitting on her knees in front of the fireplace with her palms facing out, her long, black eyelashes accenting her closed eyes as she concentrated enough to conjure a fire in its hearth. When it came into manifestation, it blazed outward toward the girl before the air in the room blew it back into the fireplace. Elina stared into the fire and the anger she channeled into it, feeling her body get warm as she felt the presence of her father sitting beside her.

"Elina?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

"Why did you agree to let him stay here?" she asked.

"Lots of reasons," Jimmy replied. "He will benefit us because…" He leaned in and whispered so no one, especially Dell, could hear him, "he is free labor and more money for us. He is paying us $2,000 each month just to stay here."

"He's mean," Elina said, a slight whine in her voice.

"I understand. I told him not to go near you or even talk to you, but he doesn't always listen," he said, looking into the fire his daughter created.

"I still don't see why he should stay here," Elina said fiercely. "There's a motel in town. Send him there. He won't bother any of us, and apparently you hate his guts."

"The farmer's market is coming up," Jimmy reminded her, looking into her fiery hazel-green eyes as he felt her long hair. "His rent amount, plus whatever we make from the sales of crops, will benefit us."

"After the farmer's market, he should leave," Elina dictated.

Later that night, Jimmy walked out to the front porch after most of the family had already gone to bed. As he took a cigarette out of his pocket, he opened the front door to see Dell plopped down on the top of the steps in the spot he usually sat in. Taking a breath, he lit his cigarette and the sound of the lighter caught the old man's attention.

"Hey," Dell said.

"We need to talk," Jimmy said, taking a drag as he took a seat next to the man. Dell narrowed his eyes at Jimmy, who dragged on his cigarette again while his brown eyes stared back.

"About that little girl of yours?" Dell asked, rubbing his wrinkled hand over his bald head wearily.

"Yeah, you scared her," Jimmy said, taking another slow drag.

"I said I was sorry," Dell answered arrogantly. "Besides, you shouldn't be the one to accept the apology."

"Elina's my pride and joy," he stated clearly, looking at Dell's blue eyes. "If anyone does something to her, they will pay."

"Buddy, if you wanna talk," Dell began, cutting in just after Jimmy completed his sentence, "let's do it over a drink."

"Uh…I don't know, Dell," he said hesitantly—he hadn't picked up a drink in years, and after his mother succumbed to cirrhosis of the liver, he stopped completely.

"What? Afraid?" Dell asked teasingly, shaking his head. Jimmy was reluctant, but whatever suited the occasion, he was up for it. What harm could a couple of drinks do?

"Fine."

* * *

><p>In the heart of Barnwell was a small bar that Dell had driven by when coming into town, and Jimmy had walked or driven past it while taking the occasional trip to town for errands when Britta couldn't. The old man picked their seats at the counter, and as they sat, he ordered the bartender to give them a whole bottle of Jack Daniels Tennessee whiskey and two shot glasses for them. Dell poured their glasses full, and Jimmy was hesitant to take a sip, and when he downed it in a single gulp, he grimaced and made a throaty sound, feeling the liquor burn on the way down.<p>

"Ugh," he groaned. "I haven't had a drink in so long. I never was a huge drinker other than socially."

"You're a Mama's boy, aren't you?" Dell asked.

"Well, I stopped entirely after my Ma died. I didn't want to end up like her," he said.

"Men don't talk. They drink," Dell stated, looking at the all-too-familiar deformed hands on Jimmy. He had worn gloves the last time he saw him; where had they gone?

"Your gloves are gone, I notice," he said.

"Yeah," Jimmy said, pouring himself more jack. "Never really needed them after a while."

"Why?"

"At first, people in this town were jerks, but," Jimmy hiccupped, downing his second shot of whiskey, "then they came to realize that…we were there to stay. The people…who knew we were in a freak show…they died or moved away." Dell focused on the younger man's fused, abnormally large fingers and held out his own hand; Jimmy looked confused, looking at the old man strangely.

"Let me see your hands," he insisted.

Jimmy slowly lifted his left hand to the former strongman, who felt his fingers and how severely fused they were by calloused skin and other underlying tissues. Two of his fingers were even strangely separated on the top, allowing them to go separate ways. Dell then looked Jimmy straight in the eye, dead serious, and began to speak.

"I'm so glad you ain't ashamed anymore," he said. "But if anyone looks at you funny, I'll break their skulls."

"Unless it's a woman, right?" Jimmy wondered. This made them both laugh hysterically; he sounded so stupid for someone who was just getting started on his drinks.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" they both cackled in unison.

"You know, I remember when the troupe was up in Wisconsin for a couple shows," Jimmy recalled from his past. "We were doing so good that Elsa made us stay into the winter. It was fun at first, because us guys had never seen snow before, but then we had to keep going in the cold. I was wearing my gloves, I'll never forget…" He hiccupped. "We went hunting, caught a rabbit, skinned it, and made a coat for Jyoti. You know the covers of National Geographic with the African tribal warriors wearing fur? That's what she looked like wearing that coat." Dell and Jimmy laughed a bit, and he continued. "I loved that little broad."

"What happened to her?" Dell asked, taking another swig of jack. Jimmy refilled his glass and downed the shot without hesitation, feeling it get to his head.

"She…she died. Three years ago," Jimmy said.

"How?"

"Lung infection," he replied. "We were all pretty upset when…she was in the hospital and…for weeks we crossed our fingers. Poor thing died."

"Oh, geez," Dell said, refilling his glass for another shot.

"You know, that winter…" Jimmy continued. "I was just another guy wearing gloves. At least I could pretend, anyway."

The man with disfigured hands clutched his gut, immediately feeling nauseous after the couple strong shots he had with Dell. His throat burned slightly, but after having all those shots, it felt rather numb. He rose from his seat quickly and gave the old man a hollow look before running outside toward the alley way.

"What's wrong with you?" Dell asked.

"I'm gonna be sick," Jimmy replied, opening the door.

He scurried toward a metal trash can, putting his hand on the closed lid as vomit projectiled downward from his mouth; he gagged loudly as the sour-tasting liquor was forced out of his stomach, and Dell, who caught up with him, watched the younger man vomit without offering any help. Once he was finished, Jimmy wiped his mouth on his clean sleeve, looking at the old man with double vision and speaking in a distinct slur.

"I know who you are," he muttered, starting to cry from the intensified emotions and the burning sensation in his throat. Dell stayed quiet, his eyes widening as he listened.

"I could tell by the way Ma hated you," Jimmy added. "It's in the family…" His tone rose to sound aggressive. "The Toledo Lobster Clan!" He rose his deformed, lobster-like hands up to show him what he meant even if he was a drunken mess. "You gave me these."

As tears escaped Jimmy's warm, brown gaze, Dell looked at him in shock; it was a wonder how alcohol consumption could reveal so many things, even the fact that he was Jimmy's father. When he was a baby, Ethel threatened him at gunpoint to leave after having been caught trying to kill his infant son. Some time after, he married Desiree Dupree, a hermaphrodite with three breasts, and he reentered Jimmy and Ethel's life in 1952 to join Elsa's freak show. Now, it was 1979—hopefully the adage 'three times a charm' meant something to their father-son relationship.

"I wanna hear you say it," Jimmy continued, tears streaming down his face. "You're my father. Say it." Dell remained quiet, and a drunken Jimmy got more aggressive, gently hitting the man's large upper arms and shoulders. "You're my dad! Come on! Please! A-Answer me!"

"Yes, son," Dell finally said, a shocked look still on his face. "It's true."

"Dad," Jimmy slurred, falling into his father's arms to hug him. Dell nodded, patting his son's back as he cried into his shoulder. They shared a moment to connect with each other, and Dell let him go for a moment to try and put his arm over his shoulder to bring him to the car.

"I know I shouldn't be driving, but…we need to get you home," he said with concern.

"Halloween tomorrow!" Jimmy shouted. "You're a grandpa! Take 'em trick-or-treatin'!"

"They're kinda old for that, son," Dell replied.

* * *

><p><em>Om<em>_…_

In her Volkswagen trailer, Annika could not sleep—not only did racing thoughts of Audrey and the family race through her mind, but her mind in general was at a state of unrest. At half past three in the morning, she rolled a joint and smoked before lighting some incense and putting on sitar meditation music, settling herself on the floor Indian style as she breathed in and out slowly, tuning out whatever was there to distract her. However, she was not so lucky—the sound of two men singing boisterously outside caught her attention and took her out of her altered state of consciousness.

She stood up and tried to transition her mind before opening the side door of her Volkswagen to see her father and Dell, arm in arm, skipping about and singing loud enough to wake up everyone on the farm. Annika was clearly flustered, but maintained calm with the help of the ganja she had smoked. She looked over to the front door of the house, seeing her mother and Christopher come out to see what all the fuss was about.

"What in the world is going on?" Britta asked, pulling her bathrobe closer as her long, golden hair, loose from sleep, blew in the early morning breeze; it was still dark outside.

"It's 3:30 in the mornin'!" Christopher added. "You woke us up with your shenanigans!"

"Please, get to bed!" Britta pleaded loudly.

"I want the whole world to know!" Dell began, shouting loud enough to rouse Elina, Toby and Jules from the house. Annika walked out of her trailer, keeping the door open to let the light from within shine outside. "HE'S MY SON!"

"YEAH!" Jimmy shouted, his bodily movements a huge mess. Britta rolled her eyes, but was a bit scared to see her husband like this—she had never seen him drunk before. Dell then turned to Jimmy and spoke quietly, slurring his speech.

"Don't ever take shit from a woman," he advised mindlessly. "The next time you do, you hand your balls to them."

"I wanna keep my balls," Jimmy answered in a drunken slur.

"You hold onto 'em, son," Dell replied, making a hand gesture to his son before pushing him, causing him to fall to the ground with a loud impact; Jimmy didn't feel any pain but they both laughed hysterically. Britta rolled her eyes, Elina standing next to her as she ran her fingers down the length of her long, loose platinum hair.

"_Mösstock_," Britta sneered, walking closer.

"Is dad going to be ok?" Elina asked her mother in Swedish.

"I hope to God he will be," her mother answered.

"Let's get 'em in the house," Toby suggested, helping Christopher get their father back on his two feet again as they brought him into the house, making their way up the front steps, through the front door, up the stairs and to the master bedroom. Britta went upstairs to check on her husband, making sure he was laying on his side before removing his shoes and covering him with a blanket.

"I do not _ever_want to see you drunk like this again," she warned, her tone sharp and serious. Christopher and Toby had left the room and went back in bed, while Elina stoo in the doorway, concerned for her father.

"Goodnight," Jimmy slurred. The woman rolled her eyes—she didn't join him in bed for the rest of the night.


	8. Chapter 8

The next day was Halloween, and that morning, Toby, Jules and Elina went to school while Christopher went to work. Jimmy, who was checked on by his wife as soon as the sun rose, was still knocked out from a drinking-filled night at the bar with Dell at the old man's request. Dell also was in a deep sleep from his excessive drinking the night before, his hefty body slumped back on the couch in the living room. Annika, however, found it difficult to sleep even after smoking pot, meditating, and most of all being woken up by her drunken father and, as she found out, grandfather. She walked into the kitchen, preparing a bowl of Frosted Flakes before going into the dining room to have her breakfast. Seeing her daughter there, Britta gasped at what she was wearing, which wasn't surprising—men's clothing.

"Morning," Annika said, taking a bite of the crispy, sweet cereal.

Sighing, her mother looked at her daughter's outfit choice, which included a black button-up with a distinct floral pattern ingrained on the fabric, brown bell-bottom pants, and a bright blue bandana tied around her head that made her frizzy hair stand out. Around her neck were several necklaces; Britta could make out only a few of them, including an eye on a hand, a peace symbol, and a brass sun. She looked extremely masculine, and during the girl's childhood, Britta had tried to make her look feminine but to no avail; all the minutes spent trying to braid her extremely wavy strawberry-blonde hair and even having her try makeup once as a preteenager; not only did the girl not look good, but Annika hated it more than anything.

"What are you wearing?" the woman asked.

"_Mamma_, give me credit," Annika said, pointing at the floral pattern on her shirt. "It's paisley!"

"Oh dear," she muttered.

"It's Halloween," Annika said. "Even if I were intending to wear a costume, I would've worn this anyway, but this is what I normally wear. Hell, you should see the people in New York. I've seen worse."

"I forget the place you left for," her mother said, taking a sip of the tea she had been holding as she took a seat.

"Kingston," Annika said, taking a bite of cereal. "It was nice."

"_Ja_?"

"Well…you know," she said, getting lost in her train of thought. She changed the subject. "I heard there's someone doing psychic readings in town today. Maybe we should go?" Oh no, what did she get herself into? _She wouldn't want to spend time with me_, she thought. She had dreaded bringing it up, but she hoped that her mother would lighten up and want to spend quality time with the daughter she hadn't seen in years.

"God forbids such things," Britta said. "He wouldn't want us to know our future."

"Oh, come on _mamma_, really?" Annika wondered with disbelief. "Why do you have to kill the vibe?"

"Good Christians do not do such things," Britta reminded her. "I'm shocked you would want to."

"I've had one before," the young woman said, shaking her head. "It's not that bad. It was actually for a past life."

"What?"

"You know, like what I was before what I am now," Annika explained. "I think the lady had told me…" She stopped to think for a moment. "She told me that I had my past life in England. I was apparently a poet. Makes sense, though. I write a lot in_this_ life, even though it's mostly music."

Britta looked at her daughter skeptically—her Christian faith prohibited her from such things, but the way Annika described it, it seemed like it was worth a try. She stood up, taking her teacup to the kitchen. In just a few moments' passing, Annika took her bowl and followed her mother, emptying it out before putting it in the sink. Britta cleaned out each object and dried them off with a towel, and her daughter stood there with hopes that she would agree to it.

"So, _mamma_? Can we? Dad and…grandpa…they're asleep," she asked.

"I'm not sure," the woman said, drying off her hands and neatening her plain white blouse that had been tucked into her forest green skirt. Her hair had been up in a tight braid that had been twisted to make a bun.

"You never know until you try," Annika said convincingly. "While we're out, my camper needs gas."

Britta reluctantly agreed to accompany Annika to get a reading from the psychic she was talking about; upon stepping into the interior of her camper, she was amazed at how immersed her daughter had been in the hippie subculture—a tie-dye tapestry on the wall, a lava lamp, and just an overall funky ambience going on that extended beyond her fashion choices. The young woman drove to the gas station to fill up on fuel before driving to the center of Barnwell, where a dark green tent was set up in the common.

Upon entering, the two were amazed in their own ways—Annika stared at the dim setting illuminated by candles and the air made sweeter with the smell of sandalwood. A beautiful but mature dark-haired woman sat at a table covered with a black cloth that had three tealight candles lit in a perfect triangle with a quartz point in the very middle. Britta, however, was a bit apprehensive and reluctant. The woman, supposedly the psychic, stood up to reveal her ornate black robes, her dark, curly hair dropping down to her forehead.

"Welcome, do sit," she said kindly, her penetrating hazel eyes looking at the two. Annika and Britta took their seats in the two chairs in front of the table, watching as the beautiful, dark-haired woman sat and adjusted her inverted triangle necklace.

"We're here for a reading," Annika said. "Mostly for my mom, here."

"I see, miss," she said; _wow, she actually knows I'm a girl_, the young woman thought. "My name is Phoebe. I specialize in many fields of divination and I have a wide range of gifts that help me seek the answers for people," the woman said, glancing at Britta. "You definitely seem skeptical."

"I am nervous," Britta replied, her fair, ageless skin getting flushed.

"There is no need. I am about as honest as you can possibly get, and I will not do anything to scare you," Phoebe said. "I am capable of seeing into not only the future, but the past and present. If for some reason your reading is not to your liking, I will not charge you."

"So you do past lives and stuff?" Annika asked.

"Yes, but I also have postcognition," Phoebe said with a warm smile. "I can see into the past of a client, and even further back. I have read for people asking who their ancestors were, or if they were orphaned while young, I would tell them who their parents were."

"Yeah, _mamma_," the young woman said. "Why don't you do that?"

"You don't want to see my past," Britta advised, remembering how it stuck to her brain like leeches to blood; even _she_ didn't want to see her own past.

The psychic held out her hand over the flame, her dark eyes fixed on Britta's bright green ones as she mentally swayed the woman to hand her one of her delicate, small hands. Once she did, Phoebe could see everything, sensing her energy as a tear rolled down her cheek—this woman had a heartbreaking past.

"Five lost children," the woman muttered, looking down at Britta's hand and tracing a long nail across her palm softly. She shook her head, sniffing and wiping her own tears of empathy away. "One was forced...terminated…oh, you poor woman."

"_Ja_," Britta replied, a tear forming in her eye—how did she know all of this?

"They all would have been daughters had they lived," Phoebe pointed out. "It is for the best that they were not born. Your hereditary gift would be abused by them. Terribly…terrible use of the power."

"How do you…know?" Britta asked incredulously.

"You are giving off an energy, madam," the psychic said politely. "You are a very powerful woman. You are extraordinarily gifted. You could lift off this quartz point in the center of the table right now. It was because of this that you were exploited by one who pretended to be a mother figure. You were a young woman."

"I was," Britta replied, listening and giving her full attention to the psychic's mindblowing accuracy.

"Your power was passed down to you," Phoebe continued. "From mother to daughter, for generations, since…"

"My mother…she never had—"

"She did, indeed," Phoebe contradicted. "How do you think she finished her stitchery so quickly? How do you think every piece of work she did came out beautifully?"

"A seamstress! That's right,_mamma_, you said that about _mormor_," Annika remembered.

Britta gasped, digging into her early childhood memories from when her biological parents were alive in her birthplace of Gotland. Frida, her mother, had been known in Visby for being a talented seamstress aside from being the wife of a farmer. Phoebe looked into the Swede's eyes, trying to read deeper into them.

"She had a power of the mind," she said softly, still holding Britta's hand; the woman closed her eyes, seeing into the woman's subconscious memory. "I can see her now…you remember…you remember seeing her…she held the embroidery wheel…the needle moved all by itself…stitching every design to perfection. It was so efficiently done that…it was the most beautiful needlework anyone had ever seen." Now she remembered—Britta had only been three at the time, but somehow it escaped her memory like paper blowing in the wind.

"But my father," she wondered. "Did he know?"

"No," Phoebe replied. "Your mother hid her powers from everyone but you. She…had a fear of her power…she wanted to be a good Christian without her powers, and wanted the same for you even though she could do nothing to rid herself or you of the hereditary powers you possess." She paused for a moment. "You see, your hereditary powers go way back, and I mean centuries. Interested to know more?"

Britta had no choice but to agree, and even Annika was dumbfounded. However, there was one thing she wanted to know in particular; why hadn't she inherited any powers? Britta looked at the woman, nodding as Phoebe took the other hand and set them on either side of the candle arrangement on the table.

"Birka," she began. "The beginning of the last millennium, and I see it was the years 1099 to 1134. Birka was a Northern settlement, but it is no longer there." Britta remembered the location being mentioned during her schooling in Sweden; _it was a Viking settlement_, she remembered.

"Birka?" Annika asked.

"Yes. Central Sweden," Phoebe said.

"Funny you say that," the young woman said.

"You had an ancestor here," the psychic continued. "The first ancestor in your line of extraordinary talents. Her name…." She closed her eyes, getting a vision. "Geirdís Idunnsdotter. She was known as the 'daughter of Idunn', Norse goddess of youth. That would make sense for _you_, my dear. You are ageless." Britta smiled, looking at the psychic.

"T-Thank you," she said shyly.

"Geirdís has long, raven black hair with a streak of gray, and she was very tall in stature. She always wore a bear's fur over her brown tunic and apron. She was married off at age thirteen, and bore her husband three daughters. However, only one of these daughters lived," Phoebe described. "She was a seeress. She was a very wise woman who healed the sick, casted runes and performed spells for people."

"Witchcraft," Britta muttered under her breath. Now she could see why she was called a witch—somehow, it carried on for centuries up until the point where she entered the world, and possibly when her daughter Elina was born.

"She was able to see the future crystal clear, travel to all the nine realms, heal the sick or wounded with just a touch…she had your power of…manipulating things with the mind. Her strongest power…controlling ice," Phoebe described.

"Nine realms?" Britta asked. "But there are only two; heaven and Earth."

"My dear, in your ancestor's beliefs, there were nine worlds to travel to; Asgard, Valhalla, Helheim, Jotunheim…several more," the psychic said. "However, not many sought after her by the end of her life. The King of Sweden…he adopted the new religion…and he…targeted people of the heathen path. So Geirdís…was put to death."

"Oh, that's terrible," Annika said softly.

"It is terrible. Many people died, but fortunately, her only surviving daughter fled Birka and never returned. She hid further north in the east," Phoebe said. "Which brings me to my next vision of a powerful woman in your line."

"How many were there?" Britta asked.

"Too many to count," Phoebe said, gripping her small hands tighter as she took a breath and got another vision. "I am now receiving a vision…the year 1675…her name was Ingibjorg Nasbjornsdotter. Her hair was the color of virgin snow, her eyes a smoldering blue, and her skin a healthy tone of milk and honey. She resided in Torsåker, where her ancestor, the daughter of Geirdís, fled." Both Britta and Annika listened to the psychic, absorbing what she had to say like a sponge.

"Like the women before her, this woman was indeed powerful. In the year 1675 in this Swedish hamlet, a witch hunt was occurring. Ingibjorg, your ancestor, was targeted. I can see…" She closed her eyes for a moment before continuing to speak. "A young boy, son of a clergyman, had seen her…levitating over a body of water. She was singing; her voice was so hauntingly beautiful, it would seduce men. I see…she wore nothing but…her corset and…under-chemise of her clothing. Her crimpy hair was loose, and the boy had seen her. He ran back to the village and alerted his father. 'She's a witch,' he told him." Britta continued to listen, shocked at her lineage.

"She was taken to jail. They found stones with…rune symbols…on them while stripping her of belongings. While in jail, they tortured her. She was deprived of food and water. Eventually she confessed to being a witch; the pressure was so intense she would have wanted to die anyway," Phoebe explained, the visions coming clearly in her head. "She was to be burnt at stake."

"Then?" Britta asked, engrossed in what she was telling her.

"She eluded death," Phoebe said. "She had not only the power of manipulating things with the mind, but she could change her appearance; a shapeshifter, if you will. Just before she was about to burn, she changed her form into that of a young girl and escaped the village of Torsåker. She met a seafarer named…Sven Persson…he helped her escape, and was dumbfounded to learn that the little girl was actually Ingibjorg in disguise. He was captivated by her beauty…they sailed to Gotland together."

"Did they wed?" Britta asked.

"Oh yes, he took her as his wife," Phoebe smiled.

"My question is this, lady," Annika asked. "I was born a girl, I get mistaken for a guy all the time. Why wasn't I born with powers? My little sister has them, not me."

Phoebe took a look at the young woman; it was quite obvious to her what the reason was, but she let go of Britta's hands to hold one of Annika's, feeling a rush of pure masculine energy through her. The woman tilted her head to the side, looking at Annika's flat chest and broad shoulders—she had her answer.

"You are not really a woman," she said.

"You're only saying to annoy me," Annika sneered. "How do I know you weren't lying to—"

"Go to the doctor if you do not believe me," Phoebe instructed calmly. "I sense…you were only considered female because it is external. There is nothing inside." Annika was struck silent, but then Britta looked into the psychic's eyes once again.

"You have another daughter, and I know she has the power, too," Phoebe said.

"You're saying that because I said it," Annika said, rolling her eyes.

"True, but I know she has the power of fire," Phoebe said, "which you_didn't_ tell me." She was right, again.

"Yes," Britta said, looking into the dark eyes of the psychic.

"Be careful of her. I can see you've been guiding her to control her powers, yet too much control can hurt her," Phoebe stated. "However, the power of fire can be very, very dangerous. She has other powers; she is perhaps the most powerful in your line to date, or at least the most powerful in a few centuries. She can take a life, but also restore it. She has the potential of Geirdís, if she so chooses to see it."

"We are a good Christian family," Britta stated, objecting to any possibility that Elina would return to her Nordic pagan roots.

"It is really up to the girl to decide," Phoebe said.

"Like I decided to be atheist," Annika stated.

"Right."

Annika paid the psychic, who was nice enough to give them a half-off discount because Britta's personal past had torn at her heartstrings. They stood up from the comfortable seats, feeling a familiar energy coursing through them both, but the voice of Phoebe stopped them from leaving for a split second.

"There is a change coming," she told them both cryptically. Britta looked at her strangely for a moment, her eyes narrowing as her pupils got smaller. With that, they left.


	9. Chapter 9

The psychic had been unclear as to when the change she predicted would be coming, but even if it meant waiting hours, days, weeks, months, or, worst case scenario, years or decades, Britta and Annika did not worry about it at all. They had their minds preoccupied with other affairs, like Dell's readjustment into their lives and Jimmy's preparations for the fall farmer's market, which happened a week after Toby and Jules' Halloween pranks and shenanigans.

November in South Carolina usually had dry weather, and in Barnwell, this made the perfect setting for the annual autumn farmer's market, usually the biggest farming event of the year with all of the town's farmers displaying their goods to the many people who came to purchase fresh produce. It was almost to the same magnitude as a festival, as some non-farmers held bake sales or raffles. Everyone in the Darling family, even the former carnies, attended the market, all except for Annika; she had scheduled a doctor's appointment for that day.

The stall of the Darling Farm included a narrow variety of produce that had been grown either naturally or by their own labor, including peaches, citrus like oranges and lemons, tree nuts with a distinct bite to them, flavorful sugar fresh from the sugarcane plant, and cotton with all the prickly seed removed being sold by the bag. Jimmy made sure everything was priced fairly; the ripe fruit was seventy-five cents a pound, and something like cotton was usually priced higher around their parts starting at two dollars a bag. Britta sat by her husband to offer assistance like she did every year, as did Christopher and Toby, but he let Elina and Jules walk around and enjoy the festivities.

"Stay within my sight, ok?" Jimmy ensured the two.

"She's with me," Jules said, a polite smile in his boyish face. "She ain't gon' get lost, dad."

"That's my boy," his father said proudly.

Elina rolled her eyes; she hated how her father babied her, not allowing her to go anywhere unless she was with someone like one of her older siblings or her friend Lily. It was as though Jimmy had forgotten that his daughter was growing up, and needed to be alone sometimes when she needed it. Jules tried to take the girl's hand to prevent her from wandering and getting lost amongst the large crowds of people in the center of town, but she pulled away—he gasped.

"Elina, I'm shocked at you," he said.

"Did you forget I'm old enough to be by myself?" she asked haughtily.

"Well, dad wants you here with me," Jules replied. "He don't wanna see you lost."

"I'm thirteen now," Elina said, stopping and looking up at her brother; she had such a persuasive look hidden in her ethereal face—he shook his head, reluctantly agreeing to not hold her hand.

"Alright," he said. "Let me still be with you, though, at the least." _She's so damn spoiled_, he thought.

"Fine."

Suddenly, the girl caught a glimpse of her best friend in the distance; her mousey brown hair in its distinct frizz was held back by a plain black headband. Her larger-than-life glasses framed her small gray eyes, and when she saw Elina, her gapped smile made itself known as she waved frantically with excitement, running toward her friend with two candy apples on sticks in her hand; one had been half eaten.

"Lily?" Elina wondered.

"Oh, hello, I thought I'd see ya here," her friend responded, giving the girl with white-gold hair a hug; she handed her the uneaten candy apple. "Here ya go, lil' lady." Elina took the candy apple and had a bite of it. She savored the flavor for a moment before speaking, having swallowed the sweet taste of crisp apple and sickening-sweet caramel.

"This is good," the girl said.

"My mama made 'em. Gave me two fo' free," Lily said with a smile. "Where's yo' daddy and mama?"

"They're back there somewhere," Elina replied. Jules, feeling awkward around the two girls, felt like his work was done—he walked up to his little sister and tapped her shoulder.

"Hey, I'm gonna go back to the stand with the others. Leave you two alone," Jules said. "Will you be ok?"

"Yeah," Elina said.

As soon as Jules came back to the Darling Farm stand, his father looked at him after having just sold three bags of cotton to a customer with shock. Shaking his head, Jules cut into whatever his father had to say.

"She saw her friend. I left 'em alone," the young man said.

"What? Really?" Jimmy asked.

"She will be fine," Britta said, standing beside her husband and patting his shoulder with her soft accent to calm his nerves down.

Dot and Bette, who were behind the section of their stall where the tree nuts and strawberries were, were approached by a well-dressed, older man wearing a dark blue suit and a black Stetson hat. He looked to be in his fifties, but not much older than Jimmy or the twins themselves; the look in his eyes was rather strange, but very friendly. Maybe _too_ friendly. He appeared to take a long look at the prices of the cashews, which were contained in their own little triple ounce boxes.

"Fifty cents an ounce," the man said, a smooth-sounding Southern accent escaping his slightly-chapped lips. He then glanced up at the conjoined twins. "Ain't that a bargain?"

"We have only the best, sir," Bette said, a smile across her ever-cheerful face. "Can we interest you in some fruit? Freshly picked right from our farm."

"Aren't you kind, lil' miss," the man said smoothly. _Something is wrong with him_, Dot thought, her mindset reaching Bette; she ignored it.

"Oh, I believe that's you, sir," the cheerful twin smiled.

"It ain't everyday I see two beauties in one body," the man smiled, extending his hand with his blue eyes meeting Bette's dark ones. "Name's Charles Loring."

"What a delightful last name," Bette smiled, a slight giggle escaping her grin. Dot glanced over at her twin sister, who introduced them both. "We're Bette and Dot Tattler. I'm Bette."

"And _you_ must be Dot," Mr. Loring smiled, extending his hand to Dot's side; she politely shook it, even though she thought his behavior to be fishy.

"Good to meet you," the mean twin said, gazing at him long and hard with an unwavering, solemn stare.

"You're quite the caterpillar," Mr. Loring sneered under the guise of a friendly joke. "Bette here has a shadow over you." The nice twin smiled, but then Jimmy, who was distracted by the scene, looked at Mr. Loring and then at the twins—_he seems awfully friendly. That's unusual_, he thought.

"Hey there, sir," Jimmy said politely. "Can I help you find anything?"

"Oh, I think I've found exactly what I'm looking for," the older gentleman said with a smile; Bette giggled, blushing uncontrollably. _You're so naïve_, Dot thought, projecting her idea to her twin's brain; she was unswayed. "The name's Charles Loring."

"Jimmy," the man with deformed hands said, shaking the gentleman's hand. "Jimmy Darling."

"My, you have a firm grip, sir." Mr. Loring noticed Jimmy's deformity, looking down at it with a subtle sense of apprehension; yet he did a good job hiding it. However, a disheartened Jimmy noticed it before his smirk could wipe it away. He then glanced over at Britta, her ageless, Nordic beauty catching his attention—her hair had been braided before being put up in a bun and a translucent, periwinkle blue headscarf graced it perfectly; it was loosely fastened, but she still looked timeless. Her blouse matched the scarf on her head, and her skirt was below the knees and black; her shoes were casual mules with a kitten heel and her legs were covered by nude nylon hose.

"And who is this blonde beauty?" the man asked politely. Jimmy extended his hand to his wife, who took it and stood by his side whilst feeling his fused fingers in his grip.

"This is my wife, Britta," he said proudly, glancing at her flushing, shy face. She extended her hand when he did, and she smiled slightly, her pearly whites gracing him.

"Pleased to meet you," she said.

"My, my," Mr. Loring said, taking a step closer and holding her small, delicate hand in both of his hands—he focused on her vivid green eyes. "You are ageless. They should be painting portraits of you." Jimmy did not like his flirtations, so he had a tighter grip on his wife's hand, pulling her away ever so slightly as she blushed from his flattery. _Watch it, bub_, Jimmy thought, his disapproval in his facial expression at the older gentleman.

"Well, I own a plantation on the other side of town," Mr. Loring continued. "Passed down to me from Pa to Pa for a hundred years or so. You should check out what _we_ have to offer."

"Oh, I'd love to," Bette said with joy. She then glanced at her twin. "Wouldn't we, Dot?"

"Shush," Dot whispered.

"He's trying to be friendly," Bette said quietly.

"Somethin's fishy with him," the mean twin said pessimistically. She had always been like that; one would think the years would lighten her up; apparently not.

"My son is around here somewhere. How rude of him not to be here, 'cause he'd love to meet y'all," Mr. Loring said, stroking the slight goatee that sat on his chin.

Meanwhile, Elina and Lily walked around looking at whatever the farmers of the small town of Barnwell had to offer. One of them, who lived nearby the Darlings and owned an apple orchard, was selling apples. She then remembered it was Richie's family, Annika's longtime friend from childhood—he was still in New York. She suddenly thought of her older sister, and worried about her; why had she suddenly scheduled a doctor's appointment in order to miss such a fun occasion? Was she ill?

"So where'd Annika go? Your big sister?" her friend asked, licking the remainder of caramel off the Popsicle stick.

"She went to see the doctor a couple cities over," Elian said with worry.

"She ok?"

"I don't know. She didn't tell me why she was going. She just…up and went."

Suddenly, Elina turned her back to see a tall, handsome young man walking through and past two crowds of people. He was very becoming; tall with light brown hair and a football player's build with broad shoulders and a chiseled chest as seen through the front of his white t-shirt. Lily noticed her friend's eye caught by the same thing, looking back to see him and gasping with amazement.

"Elina, look!" her friend whispered with joy. "He's so cute!"

Elina suddenly saw him stop in front of her, and she turned around, gazing up into the boy's bright blue eyes; pools of pure water from a spring. She looked down, seeing him extend something toward her; it was a flower, but not just any flower—it was a garden rose; white, almost a very light pink, with perfect petals naturally arranged in their own layers. It was in full bloom, and she took it to her perfect, straight nose to sniff it lightly. She then gazed up at the young man, who smiled charmingly.

"Elina Darling, is it?" he asked.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"I saw you at the Darling Farm stall an hour ago," he said. "I walked by. I know it sounds crazy, but I couldn't help but admire you from afar." Lily blushed, but suddenly felt uncomfortable; she was now, awkwardly enough, a third wheel. Elina remembered her father discouraging her from seeing boys, but she couldn't help but appreciate his flattery and flirtations.

"I'm David. David Loring," he said politely. His tone of voice was prim and proper, and he was very well-dressed. "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Same," Elina said, looking down at the rose he had given her. She suddenly felt a sharp prick in her index finger, wincing a little as she glanced down to see a bit of blood escaping where a thorn on the rose had penetrated.

"You ok?" Lily asked, taking the rose from her and seeing the blood on Elina's fingertip. "Holy Toledo!"

"I-I'm sorry, miss," David said, extending his hand to offer help; the girl rejected him, taking the small cut between her teeth to make it bleed in her mouth. Lily looked at the handsome young man, marveling at his appearance. He had a look about him, and she couldn't quite figure it out—nevertheless, he was like a white knight on a fiery steed who had probably only come to the farmer's market to claim his princess.

"Ow," Elina groaned, grimacing at the salty, iron-like taste of her own blood as she looked to see that the bleeding stopped.

"Hold on," David said, focusing on the stem of the rose to carve off the thorn he had overlooked. He scraped it with his small pocketknife before giving it back to the girl he fancied—Elina took it, again.

"Thank you," she replied. He extended a bent arm, his elbow protruding as if to escort her to a dance floor at a gala or ball. At first, Elina was nervous and hesitant; Lily whispered in her ear encouragingly.

"Take that arm, 'nd I'll take the other," she whispered.

Nodding, she took David's arm while Lily proceeded to take the other; David looked at the girl's mousey, frizzy hair strangely, but was still polite and has one girl on each arm. Elina's gaze wandered, the young man whose arm she was on stared at her to the point where it almost made him unaware of his surroundings—her platinum hair was loose but pulled back, a braid running down the length of her tresses. She dressed modestly, as often instructed by her mother. Her outfit consisted of a beige corduroy skirt with small black buttons and a pocket on the side, a wine-colored button-up blouse that had a fitted collar, and she wore knee-high socks with simple black shoes. David could see the curve of her breasts through her shirt, and her wasp waist was accentuated by her tucked-in shirt. Her eyes stopped wandering when he began to speak, her fiery hazel-green eyes fixated on him and his Southern way of talking.

"How come I ain't seen you around before today?" David asked. Elina's eyes widened, her gaze making him feverish as his heart raced. Her face so angelic with her high, defined cheekbones, her perfect, straight nose, and her heart-shaped, feminine jawline.

"I go to school," she replied. Was that the best she could come up with?

"I'm almost done with school. I'm a senior," he said. "I'm seventeen. You?"

"Thirteen," she replied.

"Aw," David cooed. "You're just a wee babe."

"What?" Elina was shocked.

"I mean that in a good way, miss," he replied. "Y-You're pure."

"Don't call me that," she said coldly. "Please."

"You seem cold on the outside," David thought aloud. "But you got a fire within." He seemed to relate to her now. He also seemed too be getting too close for her own comfort in such a short period of time. She had just met him, for crying out loud! Elina did not respond.

"I go to school with a Toby Darling. He your brother?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"He gets all the girls, that one," David pointed out, passing by the stall with fresh, crisp apples from her sister's friend's family farm. "He also fights a lot, too. Often over girls he won't see again after one night. He's in detention too much, too."

"Well, he doesn't come home until seven at night sometimes. He misses dinner on occasion," Elina said.

"Exactly my point," David said, looking forward as he saw the Darling Farm stand.

The Darlings and what had been left of the former carnies talked to Mr. Loring, but then out of the corner of Jimmy's eye, he gasped slightly at the sight of his beloved daughter on the arm of the young, handsome man who had given her a rose. A rose! Of course, that was the second thing he noticed. He narrowed his eyes at the young man, who had Lily on his other arm, as they drew closer to their stall. Jimmy looked at Mr. Loring, his cunning smirk making itself noticeable as David let Lily go—he managed to keep Elina on his arm, adding to the overall discomfort in Jimmy's heart.

"Ah, there y'are, son," the older gentleman said. "Come meet these fine folks." Leading Elina closer to her family's farm stall, David extended his free hand to introduce himself.

"I'm David, sir," he said when he came to Jimmy; to be polite, he shook the young man's hand, but when he saw Elina and her beautiful, ethereal face, he extended his hand to her and she took it, feeling his grip strong and tight.

"Ah," she groaned. Jimmy glared at the young man, but then looked at his daughter; a guilty expression swept across her face.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," David said, continuing to Britta, who smiled softly.

"Pleased to meet you," she said, shaking his hand gently.

Once he introduced himself to everyone, he walked back a few steps to be with his father, keeping his eyes on Elina; she had become the apple of his eye, and he smiled brightly at her. _What a perfect smile_, she thought as she focused her fiery gaze on him. Mr. Loring noticed the discomfort in Jimmy's facial expression, moving closer and leaning toward him.

"Don't be alarmed, sir," he said, a cunning tone in his voice. "I raised my son to be a gentleman." He stood up straight, giving a fifty dollar bill to the man with deformed hands as payment for three bags of strawberries, three boxes of different kinds of tree nuts, peaches, and oranges. He watched as they walked away, but did not hear their dialogue as he watched them speak.

"You've been bewitched, son," the older gentleman said.

"You, too. Those conjoined sisters, though," his son replied.

"They sure were lovely. Bette meets my fancy," Mr. Loring said. Avid still looked to be in a daze—he couldn't get the young girl off his mind.

"Elina is...magnificent."

* * *

><p>Three hours. Three hours she had waited; the doctor was finally coming in to see Annika after all that time to give her the results of the tests she had taken from her thorough physical examination. She had known better than to take advice from someone who barely knew her, but she had been so accurate with her mother during their reading; hey, maybe it was worth a shot? As soon as the doctor opened the door, the woman made herself alert, pushing her frizzy bangs away from her face to get a better look at the medical professional.<p>

"Ah, Ms. Darling," the doctor said.

"Tell me, doc," she said anxiously. "I can take it."

"Well, you're healthy…to an extent," he said.

"Get to the point," Annika pleaded.

"We found that…you are lacking internal female reproductive organs," the doctor said.

"What do you mean?" she asked in shock.

"You were born without a uterus, without ovaries, without a cervix, even. You mentioned that you never grew breasts or had a menstrual cycle?" he recalled.

"Yeah?"

"Well, that's why. Your body got confused due to the lack of estrogen, and you produced more testosterone," the doctor explained. "You were only defined as a female because you only have external parts."

"So…" Annika felt nervous, looking down at her knees; she had been wearing a hospital gown, but it pulled back by itself. "What does this mean for me?"

"You were supposed to be born a male," the doctor said directly.

It all made sense now—all the years of bullying by more popular girls for her "boyish" appearance; all the years of being mistaken for the opposite sex; the friendships she formed with neighborhood boys were as though she were a boy herself; the only explanation for her sexual identity and her attraction to women; the reason why she felt so comfortable in men's clothing. She took a sigh. This was heavy stuff, indeed, yet it enlightened her more than any meditation or joint-smoking session could have. However, a huge dilemma was still there, and she was dying to know the answer—how would she break the news to the family?

"R-Really?"

"Yes. This type of thing happens when you're still a fetus. You were_born_ without female reproductive organs, and we can fix that," the doctor said, looking into Annika's masculine, boyish face.

"You mean, make me a _woman_?" she asked.

"No. Gender reassignment surgery," the doctor said. "You were supposed to be a male. We just have to fix your external parts to make you…a male."

"That's it?" Annika asked; the idea seemed to catch her attention in a positive way.

"Well, there's hormone therapy, too," he explained, "but judging by your physical examination today, we won't have to worry about the bulk of things that a _normal_ female body would have to undergo in order to become a male. For example, you don't need a mastectomy, because you don't have breasts. Quite frankly, you won't need a lot of testosterone because your body has been producing it your whole life; and, that's why you look and sound the way you do."

"Oh," she said. The doctor looked at her, noticing that she was looking down at her knees.

"Are you alright? Anything you want to talk about?" the doctor asked with concern. "Questions?"

"Well…yeah," Annika said somberly, looking him in the eye. "You see, this is pretty heavy stuff you're laying on me, but I appreciate you being direct. All the years of…" A tear formed in her eye, and her voice cracked a bit; she was on the verge of crying, "the years of…trying to be a girl…only to fail. I've been bullied for looking like this, and it hurt. It took me time to get over it…but…I don't think I could've ever successfully been a girl, especially with this condition…" She wiped her eyes with her index fingers. "Well, I guess what I'm trying to ask…my mother is very religious and traditional. She's homophobic, so there was no telling her I'm a lesbian. My dad is a bit more open-minded…and my siblings, well…they hear the sermon every Sunday. There's no use telling _them_ either. So my question is…how do I tell my family? I want them to still accept me. How can I tell them without freaking them out?"

The doctor nodded as he listened to whatever Annika had to say. He could fully understand why she was crying; at the time, he had seen many patients who had undergone sexual reassignment surgery successfully with the only adverse effect being an unaccepting family who ostracized them as the "queer" or "faggot". He tried to console the patient, putting his arm around Annika's shoulder as she tried to breathe deeply.

"I understand, Ms. Darling," he said. "I would suggest…" He paused for a moment, adjusting his glasses. "Start with your parents. Take them both in a private place and talk to them. If one is more open-minded than the other, that will help a lot. This surgery is probably inevitable for you, and they will need to get used to this big change in not only your life, but theirs as well. Eventually, your whole family will have to know, and if they really love you like a family member, they will accept you. It's a challenge, but it's worth it. Don't lose hope."

As she left the hospital that day, Annika felt whole; another void in her heart had been filled, and her mind was clear. _I knew it_, she thought as she drove her Volkswagen down the last highway leading to Barnwell with miles of farmland surrounding her on both sides.


	10. Chapter 10

That night after dinner, Elina sprawled on her bed, lying on her stomach as she read the latest issue of _Tiger Beat_. The record player resting on her mirrored, vanity-style dresser played one of three Carpenters albums she owned. She was reading an article about Leif Garrett, a heart-throb of the era, and how he, along with another teen star, raised money for muscular dystrophy awareness by participating in a 'jail-o-thon'. She sang along to the airy, melodious lyrics:

"_Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near?_

_Just like me, they long to be close to you._

_Why do stars fall down from the sky every time you walk by?_

_Just like me, they long to be close to you._

_On the day that you were born _

_the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true. _

_So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold _

_and starlight in your eyes of blue._

_That is why all the girls in town follow you all around. _

_Just like me, they long to be close to you._"

Her father, Jimmy, had been outside her closed door listening to her sing; it sounded quite different than if she were singing in Swedish with her mother, as it was lower-pitched yet still powerful as all that. It was reminiscent of a seductive jazz singer in smoke-filled cabaret, yet not as raspy—Elina's English singing voice was clear and rung nicely to anyone's ears, not just his own. He opened the door slightly, seeing his daughter laying flat on her stomach as her long, wavy white-blonde hair resting on the length of her back and on the bed around her. She continued singing until the oboe bridge of the song began, looking up to see her father.

"Oh, dad," she said. "Hi."

"Hello," he said. She was nervous; he sounded so serious, and when he made his way over to her record player to lift the needle off the record, she closed her magazine and sat up, watching him as he took a seat on the edge of her bed. His warm brown eyes met her fiery hazel-green ones as her anxiety increased.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"You know, I wanted to talk to you about something serious," he said. "Don't hate me for it, 'cause you're my little girl no matter how old you are. I just want what's best for you."

"Tell me," Elina ordered sternly.

"Well, I saw you with that boy today," he began.

"So?"

"How did he come up to you and your friend?" he asked.

"Well, Lily and I were walking after Jules left us alone, and…he comes up to me, I look behind me, and he's there," she described. "He gave me that rose you saw. Very unexpected, if you ask me."

"But why would you accept it from a stranger?" he asked.

"Because I was being polite," she replied. Why was he acting like this? So what, she met a boy, big deal. However, it was a huge deal for Jimmy—he did not want any scumbag boy breaking his daughter's heart.

"Look, I know at your age, you have…uh…well…feelings," Jimmy began, looking at his daughter's beautiful face. "You also have to think."

"Oh, come on, don't start again with your no-boys talk!" Elina snapped. "I'm thirteen. I'm not a baby anymore."

"Elina, I'm only trying to look out for you. Boys break girl's hearts at your age. I've seen it," he said, trying to maintain calm around his beloved youngest daughter.

"Get out," she commanded.

"Elina—"

"Get out!" Now, she was gritting her teeth, her temper starting to flare like a viper with poisonous, sharp fangs. She was so tempted to send him out of the room using just her mind, but she saw the pained look in his face.

"Please, Elina. This is serious," he said sternly.

"_I'm_ serious! Get out! Now!"

"Elina! Please!"

His voice got slightly more aggressive, holding the sides of his daughter's forearms and looking down into her eyes solemnly. He could see the fire burning in her eyes, and her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. Her face was perfectly framed by the long, platinum hair that cascaded down her back, and her lips were slightly parted. Jimmy gazed down at her extreme beauty—she was definitely more beautiful than her mother.

"Elina, you're my daughter," he said. "I care about you, and if that means babying you just a _little_ bit, then so be it. Remember, I will go to the _ends_ of the _earth_ to keep you safe, even if it means killing whoever harms you." He sighed, taking a breath and calming himself down. "I'm sorry, but…I know you may like that boy, but for now, no boys. At least not for a while. You're _too_ young."

"I'm_tired_ of being too young," Elina cried, tears forming in her eyes.

Jimmy held his daughter close, letting his clothed shoulder be soaked by his daughter's tears. He hated to see her upset, especially since he was well-aware that he provoked her tears to flow like rivers from her fiery eyes, dousing the flickering flames in her pupils and intense eye color in the process. She felt warm against him, but she was always warm, which contradicted her wintery appearance with her fair skin and snow-colored blonde hair. He ran his deformed fingers down the length of her hair, lulling her to stop crying and calm down.

"Please don't cry, sweetie," he said. "It's for the best."

"I want you to leave," Elina said.

"Why?"

"I want to be alone," she replied, sounding a bit calmer. "Please?"

"Are you alright?"

"Just please leave me alone, dad," Elina begged. "I'll be just fine."

He reluctantly agreed, standing up from the bed and taking one last glance at his beloved daughter before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. Elina was furious—how dare he try to pin her down and baby her like some mindless ragdoll? She felt the uncontrollable urge of her power, holding out her hands and forming fists, grunting as she felt the burn of conjuring fire as she opened the back up to open palms. Her hands were consumed by the fire she had summoned from her mind, yet she was immune to it—no blistering, no charring of flesh and bone, no odor of burning flesh. She stared into the flames, seeing her reflection like a mirror before she calmed down enough for them to die down and go away completely. She proceeded to sit on her bed, crossing her legs at her bare ankles as she fiddled with her fingers.

Jimmy, who had gone back into the master bedroom to see his wife under the covers reading a book, caught her attention with his somber expression and slow, steady movement. He sat on the edge of the bed where Britta was, and she closed her box without any intention to keep her place, and she rubbed the side of her husband's arm.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"Elina," he said.

"What about her?"

"I tried to talk to her about…you know…" _No, I do not know_, Britta thought.

"Is it about that boy? She was on his arm earlier," she asked.

"Yeah," Jimmy said. "I just don't wanna see the girl hurt. I've seen it happen, and…even you…you've had it happen before meeting me…and even before…the show had to be shut down. But…you know…she's my pride and joy."

"I know, she is growing up," Britta replied. "You are her father, and a very good father at that." She kissed his cheek, looking into his deep, dark eyes with her vivid green ones. "One day, you will need to…let her go. She is becoming a woman."

"Yeah," he nodded, leaning in slowly to kiss his wife and caress her soft, feminine jawline. He could feel her kissing back gently, and he broke to kiss to look at her; oh, how he loved her so. Britta stared back at him, her green eyes allowing her to unwittingly entice him into something further, something they hadn't had in so long.

"Britta," he said, looking at his wife's ageless beauty.

"_Ja, min älska_?" she asked, looking at him fervently and with full attention. After twenty-five years of marriage, he knew exactly what she was saying—she called him 'her love'.

"I love you," he said, kissing the corner of her mouth affectionately. "I want to…be one with you tonight."

"It has been so long," she said, feeling her heart race.

"It sure has been, doll," he said, his deformed hands caressing her face as he kissed her softly, beginning to straddle his wife as he pulled back the covers.

They spent time that evening making gentle love to each other, but as years progressed in her marriage to Jimmy, Britta felt like sex was more like a duty for her husband's benefit; she did love her husband, and she did enjoy how he touched her, but most of the time she had to keep quiet during the act. No child, no matter how old they are, wants to hear their older parents rocking the bed. Plus, she had gotten pregnant so many times from his perpetual carnal desires—she had been getting older, even if it didn't show in her face, and their family couldn't grow anymore due to that; what was she worried about?

The following morning, Bette and Dot woke up and went to the bathroom in the barnhouse, brushing their teeth and freshening up their appearance with a specially-made blue dress. By 8:00, breakfast had always been served, but when they walked out of the barnhouse to the path leading to the front door of the Darling family home, they saw a delivery man of sorts carrying a huge bundle of the most beautiful red roses money could buy—Bette, seeing the vibrant crimson from the distance, gasped and smiled.

"Dot! Look! Someone's sending flowers!" Bette said joyfully.

"Jimmy's gonna have a fit if he sees they're for Elina," Dot replied pessimistically.

"How do you know they're for _her_?" Bette asked, the leg on her side of their conjoined body leading them to speed ahead.

"Hey!"

Dot reluctantly went along with her sister's frantic movement on her side, despite that if they moved fast enough, they looked to be a crippled single body trying to move at a steady pace. As the delivery man made his way up the front steps, the twins, who were only a few yards away, looked at him—Bette waved her hand to get his attention, and he looked at them in horror.

"Ah!" he shrieked.

"What's the matter with you?" Dot asked coldly. "You should be ashamed." She hated how even some people still looked at them funny—they were both in the town for a long time. Why would their condition be such a big issue?

"I have a delivery," the man said. "That's all I came for."

"Where are those flowers from?" Bette asked. "What're they for?"

"A special lady," he said, walking away toward his truck to drive away. Dot looked back, but Bette admired the flowers left for someone they had yet to find out. The kind-hearted twin made them both lean down to pick up the ornate, water-filled glass vase the roses were placed in. Seeing there was a card attached to a wooden stick, Dot noticed the perfect, black-ink penmanship and read it aloud.

"Bette and Dot; two beauties in one body," she repeated verbatim, scoffing to let her sister read the rest.

"Aw, that's so sweet," Bette cooed before continuing. "Please meet me at the coffeehouse today at noon. I can't wait to see you." She paused. "Charles."

"Oh, he can't be serious," Dot sneered.

"I think it's sweet. I say we should see him," Bette said.

"I say you're a fool," her twin said.

"Let's take these inside," Bette insisted. "Let the others see."

Sighing heavily, Dot complied with her sister's wishes and gripped the other side of the vase tighter than she had been as they made their way into the house to be greeted by the smell of warm raisin toast, sausage, and eggs in an omelet. Bette took the smells in and smiled as they made their way to the dining room, putting down the vase in the center of the table. She smiled again at how lovely it looked as a centerpiece, and once Elina came in with dishes to distribute around the table, she gasped and saw the bright, crimson roses.

"Where'd you get those?" the girl asked.

"Mr. Loring sent 'em for us!" Bette squealed happily. "Aren't they just beautiful?"

"You don't say," Elina replied nonchalantly, putting down the stack of plates before leaning to smell the roses—the scent was crisp and clean, and the deep red petals felt a bit wet. They were freshly cut and watered; in her mind, nothing could've been better for those twins considering they've been cast out for a good majority of their lives. She smiled brightly at them both, her fiery eyes letting off shiny sparks.

"Well, isn't that special," she said, keeping a steady grin.

"Elina, you have the loveliest smile," Bette said, looking at the young girl, who giggled and approached the conjoined twins to give them a friendly hug. Dot and Bette's arms both hugged her back as one person—Bette rested her chin on the girl's shoulder.

"Breakfast is almost ready," the girl said, ending their calm embrace. "Sausage links, omelets, and cinnamon raisin toast."

By quarter past eight, the entire family was down in the dining room eating breakfast—Dell had kept on sitting at Britta's head of the table since he came there, but she was fine with it because her new seat had been directly diagonal from her husband and across from her daughter. Annika, who dressed rather plain that day with a simple button-up men's shirt and black bell bottoms, glanced over at her parents, who ate quietly. She heard nothing but the sounds of silverware against plates and quiet chewing through closed mouths. Surprisingly enough, even the boisterous, obnoxious Toby was quiet. This was very strange for such a lively family, and furthermore, neither of her parents asked why she had gone to the doctor the day before; it was as though she were a ghost, invisible to the world—she then noticed the bright crimson roses sent for the twins as their new centerpiece. She broke the silence.

"Hey, where'd the roses come from?" she asked.

"Oh, Mr. Loring sent 'em to us," Bette said with a smile. "Aren't they lovely?"

"Who?"

"Mr. Loring. Charles Loring. We met him at the market yesterday," she replied. "He was so charming."

"I think he's a creep," Dot sneered.

"Oh, stop it," Bette said, glancing at her twin, who just glared back with her cold, dark brown eyes. Bette resumed looking at Annika as if in a daze. "He owns a plantation on the other side of town. We woke up, tried to go here, and then a delivery man brought 'em to the door. On the card, Mr. Loring invited us to the coffeehouse for noon. Oh, I can't wait to see him!"

"The coffeehouse, huh?" Jimmy asked, taking a sip of his orange juice; it had been freshly squeezed with oranges harvested from their own farm. "It's a nice gesture, though. He seems friendly."

"Oh, he sure is," Bette said happily, taking a small, dainty bite of her cinnamon raisin toast. "I can't wait to see him."


	11. Chapter 11

The twins each had mixed feelings about seeing Mr. Loring again, but Bette had more optimism and was more bright-eyed about the matter. Dot was skeptical and full of doubt; she had always been like that, a dark soul in her own mind and heart, a complete contrast of her bubbly, almost-too-naïve-to-function sister. Bette made sure her hair looked its best, even if it was a plain hairstyle, and that the dress they shared was clean. Jimmy managed to drive them down the center of town, and even helped them out of his truck, holding Dot's hand and letting them step down like Cinderella at the ball. Bette giggled with excitement, smiling at her sister and back at Jimmy.

"Thank you so much, Jimmy," she said.

"Anytime. I'll be back to pick you up at, say, five," he offered.

"Sounds good!" the kind twin exclaimed.

The twins looked around, receiving unwelcome stares from passersby as they entered the coffeehouse; it was Saturday, but surprisingly, it was not entirely busy. Bette got a glance of Mr. Loring, wearing a fine black suit with a gray and slate-striped tie and his Stetson atop his graying, but full head of hair. His blue eyes looked over at the conjoined twins and he smiled, standing up from seat and grabbing Bette's hand into his own.

"You look lovely, ladies," he said.

"Oh, stop," Bette said, being coy as she blushed.

"I got you some Italian roast. Espresso. On the house," he said with a smile.

"Oh, isn't that sweet," Bette said with a smile. Dot glared at her sister, but yet she never had Italian roast. Ever. What did she have to lose?

When the barista brought the coffee, he also brought soft, flat rolls frosted with chocolate and pink sprinkles along with various kinds of donuts on a large, silver platter. Bette gasped down at the sweets brought to them, but Dot simply took a plain, honey-glazed donut without saying a word. Her twin smiled at Mr. Loring, whose gaze was as charming as the way he spoke to them.

"Oh, what a treat!" she exclaimed.

"All for you, ladies," he said, a sly grin hidden behind his joyful expression. "Dig in."

Bette did not hesitate to take a chocolate-frosted sweet roll with sprinkles and two donuts; they were soft enough for her to break in half with her one hand. Mr. Loring, taken by Bette and her carefree, bubbly outlook, kept the grin on his face as he watched her take food from the platter he paid good money for. Bette looked back at him, taking a dainty bite of the frosted, sprinkled sweet roll and savoring the delicious taste of the saccharine dough that made it up.

"This is one of the best sweet rolls I've ever had," she said, keeping her first bite in her left cheek so she could talk clearly.

"Have you had 'em before?" he asked, leaning forward with his elbow on the table, sipping the espresso that was served to him; it was black but had a pinch of sugar.

"Brit—" She indeed called the lady of the farm by her first name because they had known each other for a long time, but when speaking about her to someone else with never any ill will, she used her married title out of respect. "Mrs. Darling makes them every December. They're a favorite in her country. She makes 'em for the feast of Saint Lucia."

"I met her yesterday at the farmer's market. She is…" He sighed with incredulity, still amazed at how young she looked at her age. "Ageless. Absolutely beautiful. They should be paintin' pictures of her for the Louvre."

"She is a good lady," Bette replied, putting the sweet roll down to sip her coffee. "But the Louvre, you say. Have you been there?"

"Yes, indeed," Mr. Loring said. "I saw the Mona Lisa."

"Mona Lisa?" Bette was getting excited, but it got on Dot's nerves—she was bored out of her mind. _If only I were a separate person_, she thought to herself.

"Yes, it was a wee thing. Only this big," he said, making gestures to describe its size as he had seen it in person. Bette noticed he was hinting at it to be quite small—she smiled brightly, taking another sip of her Italian-roast espresso.

"It must've been a lovely sight to see," she replied dreamily. Dot rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her donut and sipping her coffee.

"It sure was, but not as lovely as a paintin' of two ladies sitting before me right now," he said. Bette blushed, but he continued. "Maybe on one of my luxurious chairs in my study, wearin' emerald silk, holdin' a red rose near your chin."

"Oh, you are a charmer, Mr. Loring," Bette asked.

"You married?" Dot asked. It had been the first words out of her mouth the entire time.

"Oh, no," Mr. Loring said sadly, removing his Stetson hat as if to pay respects. "My wife died after my son was born."

"I'm so sorry," Bette asked, covering her mouth with her hand. _Poor thing_, she thought.

"Have you two ever had a…well…spouse?" he asked. The twins glanced at each other, but Dot took the liberty of answering even though she had no interest in the older gentleman.

"No," she said, maintaining a somber tone of voice. "Does it look like we ever _could _marry a man? Think about it."

"He'd be one lucky son o'gun," Mr. Loring smiled, slapping his knee casually. "Two ladies, one man, one weddin'. Ain't nothin' better. Even the Bible says it."

"You're a man of God, Mr. Loring?" Bette asked, smiling.

"Sure am, and 'til the day I die," he said with enthusiasm. "Even when it ain't Sunday and I got nothin' else to do, I go to church. And…" He paused, regaining his train of thought. "Oh yeah! The Bible has many men who took more than one wife."

"Oh?" Bette was very curious; this man was not only charming and generous to her and her sister, but he was religious. The conjoined sisters had gone to church every Sunday with Britta and the children growing up. Jimmy never cared to go—he wasn't as religious as his wife, and she listened to Mr. Loring as if he were her preacher and she and Dot his congregation.

"Ever hear of Abijah?" he asked. When the twins shook their heads, he explained himself further. "Chronicles 13:21. But Abijah grew mighty. And he took fourteen wives and had twenty-two sons and sixteen daughters. Yes! I quote it! I only had one wife, but…looking at what I have in front of me, I would consider taking two at once."

"We aren't property," Dot sneered coldly, directing her unfeeling eyes toward the older gentleman—she_hated_ when people brought up religion. It just bore her to tears. He changed the subject quickly, looking at the twins with a strange passion in his blue eyes, but he directed it more at Bette.

"You met my son, David, I believe," he assumed.

"Yes," Bette said, finishing her sweet roll and washing that remainder down with a swig of coffee.

"Between you and me," Mr. Loring whispered, leaning in and looking at the twins. "That girl bewitched my son."

"Who?" Bette acted dumb on purpose, and Dot just glared at her and the older gentleman, hearing what kind of smack she was foretelling in her head he would say.

"The daughter of Mr. Darling," he whispered, seeing a few customers walk into the establishment and sit at seats—it had suddenly gotten busier.

"Elina?" Dot asked.

"Yes, her," Mr. Loring said. "Don't think I'm rubbin' your family the wrong way, but…my son wouldn't stop talkin' about her all night last night. Even at dinner, he was expressin' how much he wanted to see her again." He paused, taking a different direction. "Idle boys are the ones who get lustful stirrin's, and my son goes to school everyday. He even plays football. He's far from idle. I just don't understand how he could fall under the curse of lust like that."

"It probably ain't lust," Bette contradicted. "He probably likes her. Love at first sight, perhaps."

"Mr. Darling don't allow Elina to see boys," Dot said, going against her bubbly sister's encouragement of his thoughts on his son's sudden infatuation with Jimmy's ethereal, beautiful youngest daughter. "She's only thirteen."

"Well, then," he said, leaning back. "Mr. Darling's a good father. I assured him my son was raised a gentleman. In fact, my son is close to _perfect_."

"Elina almost died as a baby. She was born too early," Bette explained, looking down at the last sip left in her coffee cup. "The moment her father first held her, he cried. She was the most beautiful child." She went in a daze. "Stars for eyes, blonde hairs on her head, skin like marble. Just…beautiful."

"Like the baby Jesus. She survived. A miracle child." He sipped his coffee and paused a bit, a slight smile in his lips. "Between you and me," he leaned in again, whispering. "She's too beautiful to exist here on earth. In fact, she's so beautiful, she's _freakish_. _Freakishly beautiful_. Hair like virgin snow, skin fair and flawless as a goddess, a face carved to perfection by angels, lips pink as a peony, and eyes that burn like…_hellfire_." Bette looked at him as he continued, her smile turning to a blank stare. "Even her father is freakish. I shook his hand yesterday, and…his deformity is grotesque. I bet the poor man wishes he had normal hands like everyone else. Poor fella. I can't help but feel sorry for him."

Dot felt offended—how dare he insult their family in such a crude way? He started out as being nice, but now he was crossing the line; she even saw an anguished look on Bette's face. They hadn't heard the word 'freak' in so long they almost forgot what it meant and how people defined them in that way based off their own ignorance. She felt so tempted to scald the man with what was left of her coffee, ruining his suit that had cost god knows how much. Her heart raced, and she bit her lower lip, but tried to be assertive but forceful.

"How dare you?" she sneered.

"What?" he asked.

"You insult our family," Dot replied. "What makes you think that's a smart thing to do?"

"I don't mean disrespect," he said, waving his hands in front of him. Bette felt torn between her sister and Mr. Loring—she always chose her sister above all, but the uncertainty of the escalating situation made her feel ill at ease.

"It's too late for that," Dot retorted, looking at Bette. "C'mon. We're leavin'."

"You can't be serious, Miss Tattler," Mr. Loring said, watching the conjoined sisters stand up and walk rapidly toward the door. He followed them close behind, trying to prevent them from leaving his sight. He _did_ mean what he said, but he didn't want his opinions to ruin his chances with the Tattler sisters.

"Wait! Please! Ladies! Ladies!" he called out. Bette looked back, but Dot grunted and got her attention.

"Stop! He's sorry," the kind twin pleaded, trying to make her sister cooperate and stop in their tracks. Mr. Loring, determined to make them forgive him, sprinted up toward them, but before they could get a chance to stop, he gripped Bette's hand, causing her to gasp and stare at him with fear.

"I am so sorry, ladies," he said apologetically. Dot's hand reached up and slapped him right across the cheek so hard it left a red palm print when he went to feel it.

"_You're_ the freak!" Dot snapped, channeling her anger into him as she gritted her teeth. "Trying to parade sweets and kindness to us only to tear us down!"

"Mr. Loring," Bette said, reaching her hand up to feel where her sister had slapped him clean across the face. "I'm sorry 'bout my sister…"

"_I'm_ not," Dot said, a sour look on her stone-cold face. Mr. Loring looked at her and shook his head; he was determined to get both twins on good terms with him.

"Dot, I know you're upset, but I'm real sorry I said those things. I wasn't thinkin', and I got carried away. I hope…I hope that…" He took Dot's hand, trying to smooth things over in the best way he could; he had a remarkable silver tongue, "you can forgive me. Let's put it behind us. Pretend it never happened."

She looked at him with such a glare that it killed her inside—what was she, let alone she and Bette included, to do?


	12. Chapter 12

_You can do this._

_You are a strong, independent woman._

_No! Man!_

_Geez! _

_Goddamnit!_

Annika sat in her camper that afternoon thinking of how to break the big news to her parents and to the family as a whole. She knew her mother was not going to like the idea, but she would have to accept it eventually; the surgery seemed inevitable, which would make it so that she would become the man she was born to be. Plus, she had a doctor's referral to back her up on the logical reason _why_ she was to undergo sexual reassignment surgery—there was no arguing with facts.

When she finally made up her mind about what to say and when, she alighted from the stationary vehicle and continued on to the trail leading to the front of the family home, where she went up the steps and opened the door, looking around the front entryway to see if either her mother or father were there—suddenly, Britta entered, carrying a basket of clean, soft clothes that had been taken off the line outside. Her mother looked up at her expressionlessly, and Annika was extremely nervous just being near her.

"You, dad and I have to talk," she said. Britta raised an eyebrow, the first hint of expression or emotion in her face since her daughter entered the house.

"Here?"

"No. More private than here," Annika replied solemnly. "It's a serious matter."

When Jimmy and Britta finally sat down for Annika to talk to them, he looked over at his wife and even though she was expressionless, he could tell she was anxious. He reached over subtly, gently tapping her skirted thigh and holding her small, fragile hand in his own large, deformed one. They were seated in the dining room on the side of the table closest to the kitchen doorway, and the basket of laundry was left on the other far side. Annika's soft dark brown eyes stared at them both as she took a deep breath, preparing for the worst.

"Annika?" Jimmy asked. "What's wrong?"

"I went to the doctor yesterday," she replied, her low-pitched voice sounding serious as ever.

"Are you alright? Nothing life-threatening, I hope," he said with worry. Britta remained quiet, her vivid eyes calculating her daughter methodically. "…is it?"

"Well, no," she said, nervous to go on; _you can do this_, she thought. "I had a thorough checkup, and…the doctor…he…"

"What?" Jimmy asked, looking at her and leaning in slightly to pay closer attention. A tear formed in Annika's eye, but she held it back as she said what she had to blatantly and directly, something she had always been good at.

"He said I'm a male," she said, her voice cracking.

The can of worms was open; the cat was let out of the bag to start scratching her parents, especially her mother; her life was over, well, at least that's what she thought. Jimmy looked shocked, yet it did not surprise him because Annika was unusually masculine for a girl, and as she grew up, development was just strange—no breasts, no menstrual cycle, no elevated emotional sensitivity like a normal girl would develop during adolescence; nothing but broader shoulders, growing taller than average, aversion to wearing feminine clothing, and lest it be forgotten that she was attracted to the same sex. Britta, on the other hand, felt guilty of herself and her parenting, but also was disappointed in Annika—her eyes radiated negativity at her, but her husband spoke.

"What? How is that…possible?" he asked.

"The doctor said that…" Annika paused. "My body got confused and produced more of the male hormone. Testosterone, or whatever. They tested everything, my blood, my vitals, and even did a scan. They found that…I don't even have parts."

"What do you mean, 'parts'?" he asked, listening to his daughter—he sensed Britta's discomfort by the sensation of her squeezing his hand really hard.

"The kind that you need in order to have a baby and get pregnant," Annika explained nervously, her voice cracking slightly as she continued. "I only have external parts and a hole but that's pretty much it. No…cervix…womb…no ovaries…I don't have any of those things. I was born without them."

"Wow," Jimmy said, readjusting his posture as he let go of his wife's hand—she glared at him coldly. "Well, we all have our shortcomings. Even me." He raised one of his disfigured hands to make his point, his fused fingers making themselves known to the conversation. "They couldn't really fix my hands if they tried."

"The doctor said there's a surgery. They're going to fix me up," Annika said.

"What?" he asked.

"Sex reassignment surgery," she told him directly, maintaining calm as she took another sigh. "They'll take my external parts and make them…like a male. I'll become a man."

"When will this be?" he asked. Annika looked at him, pretending her mother was not even there to give her the sharp, icy stare that stabbed right through her soul as she spoke.

"It ain't right away," she replied. "He said…uh…I remember…six months? Yeah."

"What about you in the meantime?" Jimmy asked.

"Well, the doctor said that it's a shorter time making the transition because I've been producing testosterone my whole life, and I don't have breasts to perform a mastectomy, so…other than some hormones and changing my girl parts to boy parts, I'm set."

"You cannot do that," Britta sneered, looking at her daughter with anger hidden in her eyes.

"And why not?" Annika asked defiantly, leaning back and crossing her arms, looking at her mother as though she were crazy.

"God made you a woman. That doctor is wrong," Britta said, her tone frigidly unfeeling. Jimmy glanced at his wife, as he always hated seeing her upset in any way, and he patted the top of her back gently.

"Britta, the doctor said what he said, and if he thinks Annika here should have surgery, then she should," he said.

"This is against God's will. You were_born_ a _girl_. Just because some doctor is crazy enough to tell you that you are otherwise just is _wrong_," Britta said condescendingly. "He made no mistake in giving us you as you are." Annika laughed arrogantly, waving her hand in the air as she dismissed the ideas her religious mother was trying to force down her throat.

"You seriously don't think God makes mistakes? Of_course_ he does! We _all _make mistakes," the woman told her mother, trying to reason with her; Britta just glared at her, her lower lip trembling slightly. "And the sad part is, a doctor! A medical professional! A _doctor_! He told me that this surgery will have to be done. For obvious reasons! I can't live like this anymore,_mamma_. You can't hide behind the Bible forever. You ain't going to find truth that way!"

"Your father has a deformity!" Britta exclaimed, beginning a dialogue in her mother tongue—Annika understood every world, but dismissed it and resumed to speak English.

"He can't help that because doctors couldn't fix him!" Annika replied forcefully—Elina, her attention caused by the commotion in the room as she walked by, spied on them by peeking through the doorway—both her mother and sister looked heated as they argued.

"They can't fix your father!" her mother screeched; Jimmy was startled as he saw the woman jump from her seat—he had no idea what she was saying, but took context clues from Annika's English responses. "He lives with his hands all...deformed and people stare at him like he's a monster. He can live with being different, and so can't you!"

"They can fix _me_, _mamma_! That's the difference! Damn it! I'm twenty-five fucking years old! You really have no say over my decisions to begin with!" Annika shouted. Jimmy glared over at his daughter as soon as she cursed at her mother, and stood up to stop the two from quarrelling further to make it look like he was siding with his wife—however, Annika was absolutely right about everything, in his opinion.

"Stop it! Right now!" he shouted, holding his short wife from behind to prevent her from doing anything she would have regretted; he couldn't prevent her from using her powers though, but luckily she hadn't.

"Dad!" Annika exclaimed; he ignored her to try and console a crying Britta, whose tears emanated from her eyes as she sobbed against her husband. Jimmy shook his head, biting his lower lip nervously as he patted her upper back softly, hearing his wife weep. How were they both supposed to know that she had felt stronger about the matter than how she usually conveyed it with her stares and subtle comments?

"_Mamma_," Annika said, taking a deep breath and watching her weep in her father's arms. She walked closer and took another breath, trying to stay calm and not shout like she had been enticed to by her mother and her fanatic thinking. "I'm still your child…" A tear formed in her eye and rolled down her cheek. "I'll be your son, mamma. The only thing different is my name and…my parts. But…" She started to cry, "I'm still a human, just like you and dad. Remember…when you were called freaks? How you didn't like that?" She licked her dry upper lip, looking up at her father, who made eye contact as he held his wife, who had silenced a little. "How do you think I feel, mamma? It makes me feel bad when you say mean things about my clothing or…you know…remember how you looked at me when I came here for Elina's party as a surprise? I felt like…_you_ were at one point."

Jimmy and Britta were both hit in the heart with Annika's emotional appeal—he hated the word _freak_, yet it resonated with him even when he led the former carnies on their exodus to a new life on their South Carolina farm after years of exploitation by the selfish, fame-hungry Elsa Mars. Even after moving to Barnwell, the former carnies were faced with unwelcome stares and snickers from ignorant people on the street or from people who visited their farm. It took a long time for them to be accepted into the community, but no matter what, they were still freaks—Jimmy thought of this in the context of the situation facing them and how Annika had felt exactly the way he had all those years because he was different. She, too, was different, and there were many changes to come—the path to uncertainty had just begun.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey, Keri here! I hope you are enjoying the story so far! Anyways, if you have any, and I mean <em><span>ANY <span>_ideas for a future chapter, feedback, or simply like the story please leave it in the Reviews! **

**Don't forget to Favorite and Follow! **

**Thanks to everyone for their ongoing support! Happy reading/writing! :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**NOTE:** _This chapter is written in __Annika's__point of view, hence first person. I've been getting requests for some more chapters with both her and the twins. Anyways, onto the story!_

Telling my parents the truth was definitely not as bad as telling my brothers and kid sister; sure, you'd think my mom crying her eyes out and beating me over the head with her Bible was bad, but once my brothers knew, _everyone _knew—Annika is a fag; a he-she; a she-male; a dyke; I heard every word. It hurt. A lot. I knew this would happen, though, and the brunt of the insults came from Toby. Little asshole. I wanted nothing more that to beat him so hard that candy came out. I remember beating a girl up in middle school for looking at me sideways and just being a little bitch—I could do that with my brother. It's easy.

Even when that bastard was little, Toby took tantrums and was just…ugh! A little fart, really. It was like the best part of him ran down the crack of mamma's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress. He just was not pleasant. As he grew, so didn't his ego, always bragging about girls drooling over him in school because he was "all that". Sure, he was good-looking with his longish blond hair, blue eyes, and the charming smile he inherited from our father. His face was a blend of both Mamma and Dad.

When Thanksgiving came, we all had to go support that little bastard that morning at his football game. I didn't even want to go, but the whole family went except for the twins; I don't know where they had gone. Anyways, I froze my ass off in those bleachers even though it wasn't entirely cold. Maybe the wind made it cold. Next to me was Jules and then next to him with Christopher. To my left was Elina, who sat next to dad who sat next to mamma. The majority of the people watching the game were pretty far away from where we were sitting. It was kinda obvious why, though, but I wasn't sure if it was because of my dad's deformity or me dressed in men's clothing. Or, maybe Elina's snow-white hair. Nah, scratch that—Elina was loved, admired, and wherever she went, people stared and just was in awe at how extremely beautiful and gorgeous she was. It couldn't have been because of her.

Number 79. Quarterback. Toby. Little egoistical asshole, looking at him run across the field to score the Barnwell team another touchdown, their fifth of the Thanksgiving game. We ended up winning, and I looked at everyone I was sitting with, my family. I think mamma and I were the quietest except when he scored the team points or got a touchdown. Then,_I_ was the quiet one. Dad was frantically enthusiastic, and Elina just clapped her hands and smiled, riled up slightly by the spur of the moment. Christopher and Jules…forget it. They were raving and screaming like it was the Super Bowl of the century. I was just sitting there, thinking of Audrey as the wind blew in my face. I wished she was there with me; she's the best distraction.

When the game ended, I stood up and readjusted my pants, but then everyone came off the bleachers to greet their sons, nephews, or grandsons who had played the game that day. Toby had removed his helmet and wow! His hair was drenched, and I mean drenched with sweat. I walked up to the family, where I saw dad giving him a tough handshake and rough hug. He was wearing those huge shoulder pads, but he was still a peewee in my eyes. He was shorter than me by a couple inches—that was pretty sad.

"We're proud of you, son," I heard our dad say.

"I barrel-assed past that bull on the other team! Got me a touchdown! Several!" Toby exclaimed, bragging per usual. "Imma miss this when I graduate." Then I remembered he was senior; he was a seventeen year old little shit. Peewee. Scumbag. Asshole. Well, I don't want to stoop to his level but seriously, how would he like it? Then I saw Grandpa Dell come up to him and give him a rough hug; what was the draw about this punk kid?

"You knocked 'em dead!" he exclaimed, his voice a hoarse roar of excitement.

"Yeah!"

Then I saw another football player from the home team approach him, his helmet off and surprisingly, he wasn't sweating like my pig brother. His face was cut like glass, and his eyes were blue and he had brownish hair. He was the same height as my brother, and when I saw him push him on the back from behind, I chuckled. Too bad he was just joking—I would've wanted to see him fall over.

"Hey! You won us another game, bub," the guy with brownish hair said with a chuckle.

"Hey! Watch yourself," Toby responded arrogantly, regaining his balance. "Oh, it's you, David."

"Yeah," he replied.

I saw this 'Dave' glance over at me, and then to my kid sister, Elina, who wore a thick cardigan over her dress that went below the knees. The way he looked at her was the way I look at Audrey, and I felt like I was missing something. I glanced over at Elina to see her snowy blonde hair blowing in the wind. I saw him take a step forward; was I missing something? Well, I heard their conversation.

"Elina," he said politely. "I didn't expect to…see you."

"Hm," she muttered. "It's nice to see you again." She sounded like she didn't even want to see him, but then I glanced at our dad, who looked at the guy with his stay-away-from-my-daughter kind of face.

"I ain't seen you since that day in the market," he said, moving closer to her. I watched them. "How are you?"

"I'm well," Elina answered in a friendly manner. Where the hell did she meet him? They weren't even in the same grade! Wait, did I just mention the farmer's market. Oh…shit. Never mind.

The boy seemed to be at a loss for words, but either way, I could see our dad glaring at him like he was a punk kid. Uh, dad, you should be looking in your own family for that punk kid. I don't think this David person is a punk.

"So…when…uh…are you…having…uh…" He stammered. "Are you having turkey later?"

"Yeah," she said.

"You should…uh…come by my house. It's a nice house. We're on a plantation. We get turkey freshly killed for today. I think the butcher brought it this mornin'," he said. Is this guy fucking blind? Could he not see that dad looked like he was about to rip him to shreds for associating with his _precious little girl_? Dad's eyes narrowed at him, but they loosened up once he went over to shake his hand.

"Hey there, Mr. Darling. Nice to see you," David said with a million dollar grin as though he had just gotten lucky. Dad shook his hand to be polite, and just looked at him.

"Hey," he said. He sounded condescending. Ok, dad, you can stop being a jerk. He's only being nice. Jeez.

"Still tired from the market?" David asked, cracking a joke to try and wipe the glare of dad's face.

"Nah," he replied. I saw him look at me and then to mamma, and then down at Elina, who stared back at David. I could see her eyes were on fire; not literally, though. I'm just saying, she had a stare that could burn through your soul like hell or ignite feelings in you. It was pretty strange, but in that case, this is the latter.

"We should be going now," dad said. He must've thought we were all stupid. I knew he only wanted to get Elina away from David. Come to think of it, I remember him trying to do that at her birthday party just before Halloween during the second half after I arrived; what was he so worried about?

"No, dad, not yet," Toby protested. "My stuff's in the locker room."

"Hurry up and get it!" Dad snapped; he was just aggravated.

Once Toby sprinted off the field toward the locker room that was an extension of the school, I looked at dad. In the meantime, David was trying to make conversation with, not necessarily flirt with, Elina; I saw a subtle hint of infatuation in his eyes, though, in the way he looked at her. I know all too well that the way he looked at her was the way all girls want to be looked at. I look at Audrey the same way. I didn't see what the big deal was, and even if they did have chemistry, who cares?

"I like your sweater," I heard the boy say to my sister.

"Thanks," she answered. His lips parted into a slight smile.

"So…I was wondering if…" I saw him glance up, and then I noticed he was looking at dad. He continued anyways, "well, if you wanted to hang out sometime. If you want, I'll look you up in the phonebook directory. We can…go to the coffeehouse or…the park? I'll leave it up to you." I saw her sneak a glance back at our father, who looked at them both as though they were going to be struck down by lightning. I rolled my eyes, but then I saw mamma, who was in a conversation with my brothers in Swedish.

"Well," Elina began. She was nervous. "I…I don't know."

"Everything'll be on me," David promised.

Then, that little shit Toby came back to us, dressed in his normal clothes with a letter jacket of the Barnwell High School colors. Elina didn't even have the chance to answer David definitely. I saw dad wave his hand at my brother, who smiled, his stupid-looking dimple showing. We ended up leaving, and I couldn't help but feel bad for Elina. Sweet little Elina, pure and innocent. All dad was trying to do was look out for her, but I still felt bad for her. It was like she was never going to learn how life was, especially with a guy. Yet, I was also jealous; he never looked out for me like that. Then again, she is the daughter I could never have been to our parents.

That night, after we all had turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce, I was in my trailer; I wanted privacy, especially since I received a letter from…Dale? Yeah, Dale. One of my longtime friends. It was good to see he was still living in New York. I hadn't spoken to any of my friends much since arriving in South Carolina. The funny thing is, mail never came on holidays down there. Today was special, I guess. I opened the envelope, which was kinda thick, and I saw two letters and one was written on plain notebook paper. I unfolded it and looked at it, reading every bit of my friend's scribbling:

"_Annika,_

_Hope all's well down south. The guys have all been good. Me too. We've been worried about you, wondering when you'll come back. Weren't you only down there for your kid sister's birthday? Or did you get stuck down there for Thanksgiving? We hope to hear from you soon. Call me, you have the number to the apartment._

_-Dale, Richie, Bob, Mike_

_PS: Audrey tried to reply to your letter. I included it with this. You still have her address, right_?"

Audrey! My darling angel Audrey, love of my life. I thought of her everyday since coming back down to see my family, and now that I had her response in the envelope, I frantically took it, excited that she answered me at all. What did she have to say? If only I could hear her soft, feminine voice lulling in my ear sweet nothings or how much she loves me, I thought. The perfect cursive…the smell of the fine parchment…my eyes caressed the page:

"_Hello Annika,_

_I'm sorry it took so long to answer your letter. I've been really busy with an internship at the local hospital, and I have another week left! Isn't that exciting? Well, of course it is, for me. Then I graduate nursing school and off to a good career I go._

_So, South Carolina, huh? Putting some miles on that camper, I see. I'm getting a brand new car soon. My old one's a lemon. I don't have any particular model in mind, but I'll be happy with anything. My parents are paying for most of it._

_How have you been? I hope you're alright, and I can't wait to see you again. When will you be back in New York? Winter is coming, though. I wouldn't want you stuck at the airport while a blizzard is going on._

_That's all for now but do give me a call when you get a chance. My number is still the same, but I have my own little apartment now. Here is my new address: 155 Ridge Road, Apt # 6. Kingston, New York, 01421._

_With love,_

_Audrey_

_xoxoxo_"

All those x's and o's at the very end was the icing on the cake—she still loved me. It had hurt me when she wanted to take a break to focus on school and her internships but I felt like everything wrong had faded away. I waited for her; patience was a virtue after all. I knew her number off the top of my head, but I didn't call her until late that night. I had snuck into the house during the very early hours of morning, due to no phone being in my camper, and once I was sure everyone was asleep I went to the living room. I flicked on the lamp beside the sofa and plopped down, spinning the dial on the phone before picking up the receiver. When she picked up, my heart raced.

"Hello?" She sounded a bit weary; I hoped to not have woken her up.

"Hey, Audrey?" She recognized me! Oh boy!

"Annika?" she asked, her tired tone turning to an excited one.

"Yeah, it's me," I said. "I hope I didn't wake you up."

"No, I just kinda fell asleep studying," she said with a giggle. I heard the ruffling of papers and a thud in the background.

"I got your letter," I said after a moment of awkward silence. "You said to call you. I was hesitant, but—"

"It's ok. There's no need to apologize," Audrey told me. "I wanted to hear from you."

"Great," I said with a smile.

"So how is South Carolina?" she asked.

"It's alright. I grew up here after all," I said.

"I bet it's lovely, the farm you guys have."

"Actually," I said. "It's kinda boring, really." I paused. "Well, I haven't done any farm work or…anything. There was a farmer's market and my brother had his football game, so…"

"A farmer's market?"

"Yeah," I said. "But I couldn't go."

"Why not?" She sounded a bit shocked but in a playful way.

"I had a doctor's appointment," I told her; I was planning on telling her his prognosis.

"Why?" she asked with concern.

"I got checked out."

"Are you ok?" I could tell she was prying me open now—she was my weakness. I had to tell her the truth, and I had an underlying feeling she would accept me for who I am.

"Well…it's heavy stuff," I told her.

"Tell me, please," she begged. I sighed, looking down at my pants and putting a hand on my lap as I adjusted the way I was sitting.

"Well, I'm not going to pussy-foot around," I said. "I'm a male."

"What?" she asked me with disbelief.

"The doctor said I was supposed to be born a boy. I was born without, you know, a womb, a cervix, and ovaries and all that. I was only called a girl at birth because my parts are external only."

"You're kidding," she said. I couldn't really assess her reaction fully. Her tone seemed neutral.

"I'm not kidding you, love," I said. "The doctor gave me a referral for a surgery that's gonna fix me up. I told both my parents. My dad's ok with it, but my mom…" I scoffed. "Forget it. She'll beat me over the head with her Bible every day until she convinces me it's wrong to become what I'm supposed to be in the first place."

"Annika." She caught my attention, so I listened. "If you need to have the surgery, or would benefit from it, I will support you every step of the way. And…I'll…I'll still love you."

My heart melted; if only she had been there that night. I would have held her, kissed her, and caressed her. Hell, I would've given up anything just to write poetry on her skin with my lips, her sighs the music to what I'd write. I missed nights with her; they were long and passionate. Even now, I'm still in love with Audrey like the first night we met. She changed my life; got me out of drugs, understood me, listened to me no matter how stupid I sounded, and she supported me, even through this dilemma. Hell, she still does.

"I love you, too, Audrey," I blurted. "So much it kills me."

"Well, don't die on me," she joked; I laughed.

"I won't if you won't," I said with a chuckle, smiling brighter than ever before in my life.

We talked until 4:00 AM. We really caught up, and it wasn't long until I realized we had a lot of catching up to do. When I got more in depth about the surgery in the works for me, she listened to every word no matter how graphic I was when describing the actual procedure of making a ding-dong on me. I still didn't know if the hormones were to be injected or ingested; it was all so new to me. Then we caught up on personal matters. Hell, I wouldn't have been surprised if she asked me to come back to New York just to have me be hers again. Sadly, the conversation didn't end on that note. I was a bit disappointed, but I thought to myself, _hey, she isn't ready just yet_.

"It's late, Annika," she said.

"When can we talk again?" I asked.

"Soon," she said. I heard her yawn. "It was wonderful to talk to you again. I've missed you."

"I've missed you even more," I told her.

"I love you." She hung up the phone—I felt so happy; a rush came over me. It was far greater than any gram of cocaine I ever snorted; far greater than any hit of smack I got and how it rushed through my veins; far greater than the world shrooms take you to. Audrey is my drug; the thought stuck with me.


	14. Chapter 14

Dot sacrificed her hatred for Mr. Loring for her sister's happiness—Bette was crazy about him, for reasons she didn't know why. What was the draw about him? It wasn't that he was a jerk, at least not just that fact. Was it because he had money? Probably. After all, whenever they visited, he presented them with sweets and other gifts. He gave Bette a diamond pendant; Dot was given a sapphire one in the shape of a teardrop. Bette allowed him to put it on her neck, and her twin had no choice but to let him do the same for her neck—he had planted a kiss on the areas where the clasps closed. Bette had giggled and blushed; Dot felt her heart race, but not in a good way. She was just too uncomfortable for words.

He had showered them with more gifts than just jewelry—silk gowns and dresses made from the finest fabrics, taking them to the fanciest restaurants for lunch and dinner, and if they (more like Bette) chose to sleep over in one of their lavish guest rooms on the plantation, they were fed only the finest breakfast foods; Bette loved the caviar. All of their needs were fulfilled—what more could a woman ask for?

"Beluga," Mr. Loring said. "Imported."

"It's so expensive!" Bette exclaimed, her jaw dropping at the sight of black roe set on a silver platter in front of her and her sister; a spoon made of mother-of-pearl was set in it, and on the side was small bowl filled with sour cream topped with minced chives.

"Try some. You'll love it," he said.

He took the mother-of-pearl spoon and collected a small amount of the black beluga eggs, dipping the contents in a sliver of sour cream before taking it up to Bette's mouth. She seemed to hesitate at first, but when she accepted what he was feeding her, she savored the taste and nodded with approval. She swallowed it, looking back into his narrow blue eyes with a smile across her ever-cheerful face.

"It's delicious, Mr. Loring!" she squealed.

"Dot? You like some?" he asked, looking at the other head on their conjoined body. Dot looked stern, and it concerned him. Sure, he had forgiven him for blatantly insulting their family, but only did so for her sister's sake—she was so happy with the older, rich, privileged gentleman. He spoiled them so much, giving them the finest things and opening his home to their company.

"No. I'd just like some pancakes, thank you," she replied.

"Pancakes!" Mr. Loring called out as a maid passed by the open guest room door. "Tell the cook that we want some pancakes in here."

"Yes, Mr. Loring," the maid said, rushing down the hallway.

Later that morning, the conjoined twins were sitting in the parlor; they were wearing a dress that was given as a gift by Mr. Loring. It was made of cotton, and it was definitely comfortable considering it was specifically tailored for them. It was pink and frilly with a long maxi-style skirt and three quarter sleeves with frills at the end of them. Bette wore the headband that matched their outfit, while Dot wore a simple black one that camouflaged in her dark, slightly graying hair. Mr. Loring was reading the newspaper, and once he found something that caught his attention, he folded the newspaper.

"Ladies?"

"Yes, Mr. Loring?" Bette asked, smiling at him.

"I found a very interestin' article in the paper," he said. "_Twins Conjoined At The Head Separated: Survival Is A Medical Miracle_. The headline says it all."

Dot gasped, looking over at the newspaper headline he had held up for them to look at. She smiled slightly, looking at the black and white before and after images of the babies, who were conjoined at the head, carried in their smiling parents' arms. All her life, she wanted to be a separate entity from her sister; a separation surgery would have been the cure to the insanity she suffered on a daily basis with her sickeningly happy sister. She wanted to be free; Mr. Loring had money. She found a new reason to like him like her sister had—_he can afford the surgery_, she thought happily.

Suddenly, Mr. Loring's son, David, entered the room. His light brown hair was darkened by the water of the shower he had taken. He was wearing pants and shoes, but no shirt—Bette gasped at the teenager's chiseled body, his six-pack abs, and his extremely toned upper arms as he walked in the room with a blue towel hung over one of his muscular shoulders. Mr. Loring shook his head, standing up from his seat and pointing at him.

"David! Put some clothes on! Don't you got any decency! We got guests in our home!" he lectured.

"Dad, relax," his son said—the blue towel turned out to be a shirt. It looked like a towel from a distance. "I got one here."

He slipped on his shirt and gazed at the twins, his blue eyes looking at both of them as he took a seat in the lounge chair across from his father. He leaned back, sitting nonchalantly in a slouch as he ruffled his wet hair and looked at his dad, who was reading the rest of the paper while smoking a cigar.

"Dad, can I have some money?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Well, 'cause I'm gon' meet that girl and her friend today," David explained. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving—Dot and Bette had previously been there the morning of the holiday before going back home to the Darlings to have turkey, pie, and socialize with everyone. People were either out and about or at rest in their homes to prepare for the coming week.

"Son," Mr. Loring said, closing his newspaper and sitting upright to look at his son. He put his cigar in the glass ashtray on the side table with the lamp. "Mr. Darling don't you around his daughter. I don't know why, but do yo'self a favor and don't meet up with her."

"But dad," he said, rolling his eyes. "I really like Elina. Yeah, she's younger'n me but she's….beautiful. _Very_ beautiful."

"Remember this, son. Romans 13:14," his father began.

"Oh, c'mon, dad. Stop with the preachin'," David scoffed, shaking his head and slouching a bit with an anguished look on his handsome face.

"But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires," Mr. Loring said, a stern look on his face. Bette looked over and smiled at the man, but then David shook his head, leaning down to his father and speaking to him.

"Dad, I ain't plannin' on sleepin' with the lil' broad," he replied matter-of-factly. "I just wanna spend time with her. I like her."

"The Lord sees everythin'. Even what's in your mind right now," he told his son.

"Dad, church is tomorrow. It ain't today," David contradicted. "Stop."

"It don't matter the day! Jesus' watchin' you," he told him.

"Whatever," David said, leaving the room. "Still goin' out!"

"Yeah, yeah," Mr. Loring muttered under his breath as he sat back in his chair. "You do that, son."

* * *

><p>Jimmy had allowed Elina to go hang out in town with Lily, but even the girl was under false pretenses—Lily had called up David with the phonebook next to her and told him that she was going into town with Elina, and that's how he knew. The snowy-haired beauty was easy to spot, and David was walking out of the coffeehouse after grabbing some breakfast of a simple English muffin, lightly buttered and toasted. Mousey-haired Lily, with her crimpy hair held back with the usual headband and her eyes framed with large glasses, was walking alongside Elina as they walked down the street talking with each other. Once they stopped, David made his move and walked over to the two girls.<p>

"Oh, heya!" Lily called out. "David! How ya doin'?"

"I'm doin' good. Just out n' about," he replied.

He looked at Elina, who long, white-gold hair was loose but held back at the crown with braids of medium thickness. Her beautiful face, with its defined cheekbones, fair complexion, and heart-shape, enchanted him once again as her hazel-green eyes burned intensely up at him. She was wearing a navy blue dress with a blouse-styled top and a tan dress with accents on the buttons and shoulders. The fabric was not too thin, but it accentuated the curve of her breasts and her wasp waist very well. It wasn't like he could prevent himself from noticing that part of her body, but it was right there in front of his face. His tone sounded like a soft whisper as if to woo the girl.

"Hello, Elina," he said.

"Hello," she replied politely.

"You look…great," he said.

"Thanks," she said shyly.

"Where you guys headed to?"

"Nowhere in specific, but we's gonna probably go to my place," Lily cut in. David looked at her and smirked, shaking his head.

"Yeah," he said. "Wish I could tag along, but my dad's bein' a slime."

"Are Bette and Dot with your dad?" Elina asked.

"They were this mornin'," he replied, gazing down into her fiery eyes. "Dad's was feedin' them caviar and pancakes and sour cream. He's been showerin' them!"

"I saw the necklaces they got," Elina said. "I loved Dot's."

"Saphhires?" David asked.

"Yeah."

"They're a beautiful piece for…_any_ girl to own," he said, dropping a hint. If only he could have given her something to show how much he liked her.

"I'm not allowed a lot of jewelry," she replied. "Just…simple stuff."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm not allowed to wear pants either," Elina said. "My mamma disapproves of it. I don't get it because the girls from ABBA wear pants."

"ABBA," Lily said. "Love 'em!" David chuckled, but it turned to laugh within seconds.

"Your mamma Swedish, too? I know ABBA is. She must be old-fashioned," he asked.

"Yeah," Elina said.

"Can you speak any?" he asked.

"I grew up with it, so what do you think?" Elina asked in a sassy manner. David raised his hands in the air as if he had done something wrong, and his eyes widened with a shrug in his shoulders.

"Hey, no need for sass," he said. "I only asked a question. Can you maybe say something in Swedish to me?"

"She sings in Swedish, too," Lily said.

"_Hey_!" Elina did not want to be put in a position to sing in front of anyone, especially in public.

"You sing?" David asked.

"Well…in the shower," Elina said.

"The shower, huh?" he asked, moving closer to the girl. Elina looked up and felt extremely uncomfortable with him as close as he was, so she moved her hand, palm facing the young man as she worked him out of her personal space.

"You're in my bubble," she said defensively.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know you had a problem."

"Don't be a jerk," Elina said, her eyes narrowing sharply up at him, moving a step back.

"I'm not bein' a jerk, sweetie," David said.

"Uh…" Lily started to say something but trailed off.

"Look, David," Elina looked up at him, and then to Lily. "Stop. I'm serious. In fact, I'm not even supposed to seen around you."

"And if you are?"

"Don't get me started," the girl with snowy-blonde hair retorted coldly.

"It don't matter, really," he said.

"It _does_!" Elina said forcefully, nearly a shriek.

"Calm down," Lily said. "Wanna get us somethin' to eat?"

"No."

"To hell wit' it," she answered casually. They both looked up at David, who stared back at them apologetically; Elina was not swayed by him and his actions, and if she were nay less of a person, she would've made him burn to death right then and there.

"I'm sorry," David said. "Forgive me?" The girl looked up at him and took a sigh, breathing in the cool autumn air. She bit her lower lip and shook her head with a smirk.

"Fine," Elina said.

"See you around?"

"Sure."

As David walked away, Lily looked into Elina's eyes, and her gaze burned so much it hurt; she had known her for a long time, and she knew when the girl was angry or upset. For now, she was just plain upset, but she did a really good job hiding it in her actual facial expression.

"What's your problem?" Lily asked.

"Problem?_Really_, Lily? We've been over this!" Elina shouted. Luckily, passersby didn't notice the mini spectacle.

"He's good for you," the girl with mousey hair replied.

"You may think that, but my dad's gonna kill me if he finds out," Elina said, looking at her friend and shaking her head.

"He ain't gon' hurt his little girl," Lily said, trying to be cute.

"He just…" She took a seat on the bench nearby, looking as a few cars passed by them. Lily joined her and listened to what she had to say. "He don't want me seeing boys."

"My parents don't, either," her friend said. "They don't want me datin' 'til I'm sixteen."

"You don't get it," Elina said, adjusting her hair before continuing. "My dad thinks it's his way of protecting me by not allowing me to see boys. Now, as much as I'm thankful for that, he doesn't have a minimum limit for me. He just says 'no boys'. Period. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. He treats me like a baby, and I'm tired of it."

"Aw," Lily said, trying to get what she was saying. "He don't seem that way with your other sister."

"Oh," Elina said—she remembered how awkward it was when Annika told her that she was to undergo sexual reassignment surgery in the coming months. She knew Lily for a long time and trusted her. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Yeah," Lily said. Elina leaned in and spoke softly so people wouldn't hear her, and she looked into her friend's small eyes through the big, thick-rimmed glasses she always wore.

"My sister isn't _really _my sister. She's my brother," Elina said.

"I knew it!" Lily exclaimed excitedly; then the statement just sounded weird to her. "Wait, how?"

"She wasn't born with parts," Elina said. "So they're gonna do a surgery to fix her up so she's a male. That's all I'm gonna tell you."

"Oh, wow. That's weird," Lily said. Strangely, there wasn't an adverse reaction to what Elina was telling her friend. She seemed to accept the idea.

"Our mamma had a hey-day with it, trying to convince her that it's against 'God's will' or whatever," Elina said. "In fact, Annika gave me a book about meditation. I've been doing it for a bit, and it's really soothing."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Come to my house sometime, and I'll show you. Annika will be there," she said.

"Cool."

Elina came home early that afternoon to Dot and Bette sitting outside on the porch swing, and when she glanced over upon stepping up on the porch, both women looked solemn. It wasn't like Bette to be so sad—what was going on?

"Hey," the girl said. They didn't answer, but she joined them on the porch swing. "What's wrong?" Dot looked over at the girl and sighed softly, her voice sounding somewhat somber.

"Dell died."


	15. Chapter 15

Dell's death was quite sudden, but not entirely unexpected—he was quite old, and at his age, dying of natural causes would definitely be enough. Out of all the family members, Jimmy was the most affected; he shed his tears, but it wasn't a drawn out grieving process. At the funeral at the beginning of December, it had not rained—the sun was shining as the pastor from their church conducted the graveside funeral service. After saying the final prayer over the coffin on its pyre, everyone left white roses in his memory. Everyone had worn black on such a beautiful day.

* * *

><p>By Christmastime, a lot had gone on, but in the Darling family, December was a big month—after Toby's birthday and before Christmas, the children and Britta celebrated the feast of Saint Lucia at home every year on December 13. Aside from the lighting of candles and songs being sung with Elina playing the piano, sweet rolls were made for that evening. The sweet rolls weren't just for the children and Britta, but for everyone. Dot and Bette both liked them, but now they were a reminder of Mr. Loring, who had presented them to the conjoined twins on their first outing together. Jimmy liked them as well, but did not participate in the activities. Like attending church, it just wasn't for him. He managed to sneak a peek and watch his beloved youngest daughter use her powers of fire to light all the candles at once by concentrating on just one.<p>

* * *

><p>January started the new decade—it was now 1980, and with this new decade came great changes already in the first month. Toby, who had been applying to colleges all around the South, was not only accepted to two of the five he applied to, but he got a full boat football scholarship to the University of Alabama. This made everyone pretty happy, and Britta was proud that her son was getting an education. Annika, who still faced bullying from her younger brother for undergoing a sex change operation, was far from happy about his acceptance to college.<p>

She had started taking testosterone treatments via injection the same month, and she had gone once a week to the hospital to get them. Her body size increased with enlarged muscles, her voice got even deeper, and a part of her external anatomy got bigger. Blood tests also were weekly, making two days out of the week deticated to doctor's visits. Annika was proud of herself and felt confident in her own skin for the first time, and even started to find a male name to go by; Annika was no more, and 'she' officially became a 'he' in the Darling household.

"Call me Adam," he said.

"Really?" Jimmy had asked. "That was a quick decision."

"Adam James Darling," his new son said, looking at his father with a smirk.

"Alright," Jimmy replied. "Adam."

Britta had watched her husband and new son hug roughly to celebrate the next phase of his transitioning to the male he was born to be. She still disapproved, and the day she found that stubble had grown on her 'daughter's' face, she was shocked. In fact, she didn't associate with Adam very much unless she had to, as if it were at dinner or being together with the family. Christopher and Jules also got used to their new older brother being around, but Toby was still shaky on accepting the issue. He had let some slurs fly out of his mouth, but as time progressed, he tried to keep his smart mouth under control and actually made an effort to try. The newly-enlarged muscles on his former sister's body were enough to send chills of fear down his spine—he did _not_ want to get beaten.

* * *

><p>In February, Jimmy had given his wife Britta a blood-red teardrop garnet pendant on a silver chain for Valentine's Day. He had surprised her when they woke up that morning, leaving the small, velvet box that contained on her bedside table. He was awake when she opened it, and her expression was priceless—the garnet sparkled to perfection, and the silver was sterling. It wasn't everyday he gave her jewelry, as the money to purchase it was not always readily available, but when he did, she loved every bit of it. As she kissed him out of gratitude, he remembered the first gift he had ever given her—it was Christmas 1953;<p>

_"__Hey, how was the food?" he asked; she had been sitting in one of the pre-set audience chairs with her leg crossed over her other one and her hands on her lap._

_"__Very good," she said, looking at him._

_"__Did you like my present?" he asked with a charming smile. Britta's lips parted so a slight smile could form, but she had no idea what he was talking about._

_"__Huh?" He sat down next to her and looked into her eyes._

_"__I'll give you a hint. It was red," he stated, winking at her. Remembering the small ruby red heart on the gold chain, she nodded slowly as the image came to her mind._

_"__Oh," she said. "It was very…thoughtful. _Vacker_."_

_"__What?"_

_"__Oh, it's what we say when we describe something beautiful," Britta explained. Jimmy smiled warmly at her, gazing into her eyes and sighing._

_"__I'm very glad you liked it," he said. "I bet it will look beautiful on you, Britta."_

The best part was that she hadn't known it was him. It wasn't like he had put his name on the tag, anyway. At the time, they hadn't even been together—they were good friends. She had been brought from Sweden by Elsa that October, and Jimmy befriended her even though her English was not very good. She got the chance to learn not only the language but what true friendship, and love, was like. That ruby red heart pendant was one of the only pieces of jewelry she had owned other than her wedding ring and a simple gold cross.

Christopher, who had met a local girl and had starting dating her on the week of Valentine's Day, had given her a box of chocolates and the best perfume he could buy with his own money. The girl was named Leanne, and she was a naturally charming individual from her soft-spoken voice laced with a Southern accent, to her dirty blonde-colored hair and her soft blue eyes. He met her while at the convenience store, and he had helped her reach for something while he was running out to get milk for the family. Jimmy and Britta had met her and got a very good first impression of her; she was so polite, yet very opinionated with topics like politics.

As for Elina, there was school on Valentine's Day; almost every subject bored her except for her Accelerated Algebra class. She had always been good in math, and every answer came easy to her. However, she hated the quadratic formula and polynomials—those just were ridiculous with crazy concepts. She understood them, but didn't like them. That night, once everyone was asleep, she heard a strange pattering sound on her windowsill. She was woken up, and she walked to the window to see David standing down on the grassy terrain and staring up at her. She opened her window and stared down at him in shock, seeing he had a single red rose in his hand.

"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair," David said, feigning a British accent; he sounded so well, but Elina was uncomfortable.

"David!" she hissed under a whisper. "Do you know what time it is?"

"I don't got a watch," he said. The girl rolled her eyes, moving her loose platinum hair behind her ear as she looked down at him condescendingly.

"No! David! Leave!" she hissed forcefully, emphasizing her point as she directed her finger toward the dirt road that connected the farm to the rest of town.

"I ain't leavin' 'til you accept my gift," he said stubbornly, the rose still in his hand.

"Gift?" She remembered the rose.

"Yes!" David whispered, his blue eyes gazing up in the darkness of late evening.

Elina reluctantly put on some shoes and a thick cardigan that had been resting on the back of her desk chair, quietly tip-toeing down the stairs to open the front door and step outside in the crisp air that almost nipped at her nose—it wasn't so cold that it froze the legs beneath her nightgown, but it was cool enough to make one think it was autumn rather than winter. Her long, snowy-blonde hair was loose and hung freely down her back, cascading in its waves like a waterfall in an enchanted forest; once David saw her, he approached her and presented her with the crimson red rose. As she took it, she felt a sharp prick in the tip of her middle finger—she looked to see that a thorn had punctured her skin, and it was bleeding.

"Ow!" she grunted.

"Oh, not again," David said, shaking his head.

"Damn," Elina whispered, taking the small puncture wound to her mouth to suck out the blood to make it stop bleeding. She looked over at David, feeling the fresh, iron-tasting blood flow into her mouth from the cut the thorn made, and her fiery gaze was contemptuous. _I could get in trouble for this_, she thought to herself, _I just have to stay quiet_.

"I told the florist to try and remove all the thorns, considerin' last time, you bled," he explained, keeping his voice as quiet as he could. Elian removed her finger from her mouth and looked down to see that a bit of blood was seeping out of the cut, so she bit at it until it stopped before looking at him to see a loving look in his eyes.

"I guess you're prone to thorn pricks," he said.

"I guess so," she answered.

"I…also got something else," he said, taking something from his pocket—it was a piece of paper.

"What could you possibly—"

"Just listen, alright?" David asked—Elina's tone of voice seemed to bite him where it hurt, but he persisted. He was very much attracted to her and wanted to make her his despite her father's wishes and her willfulness to follow the rules to save herself from discipline. She stood there and listened; it was a poem:

_"__Now that you are here  
>I have nothing to fear<br>With you is where I belong  
>I know it, I feel it so strong<br>Nothing has been more clear  
>That it is your love I hold so dear<br>Deep inside is the cry of my heart  
>I never ever want us to part<br>I am a hopeless, romantic man  
>Doing the best he can<br>To show you for sure  
>That my love for you is pure<br>I will do whatever it takes  
>I don't care about the stakes<br>You and only you I want  
>A prayer I know God will grant."<em>

As she listened, she felt somewhat uncomfortable—she had met him the November that passed, and even though he seemed to really like her, she could not feel anything back; unless, of course, the feelings were so deep she would need a jackhammer to dig into her heart just to find them. She bit her lower lip, but before she could look up at him, she felt his lips crash against hers so suddenly she couldn't shake him off as easily as most would. His arms were snaked around her waist, and she grunted a bit.

"Mm-"

He held her so close to him that her breasts, not in a bra and therefore perky from the cool draft that crept up the front of her nightgown, pressed against his hard body. She felt quite warm, and he loved how she felt against him in the cool wind that blew that night. Just holding her and feeling her soft, sweet pink lips incited arousal in him as he felt his member grow in his pants, yet he tried to keep it under control—Elina was only thirteen, and he was seventeen; it just wouldn't be kosher. Plus, if he had tried anything with her and she became with child, he would have two big issues to face—if her father, Jimmy, found out, he would have him by the balls to rip them off. If his devoutly religious father found out, he would do one of two things; disown him, or worst case scenario, marry the girl. _Nah_, he thought, _she'd be too young anyway_.

Elina finally got the strength to push him away fully, and when she did, she was unaware that her powers had been stimulated—he winced as he felt a burning sensation where she had her hands on his shoulders and successfully pushed him away. She gasped as she saw two holes with black charring around the edges and where her fingers had been. Through the holes, Elina could see redness and blistering on his shoulders and near his collarbone. David looked down at her in horror, an anguished look in his eyes—he was in shock.

"Elina…what…you…" He trailed off in disbelief.

"Oh my," she muttered, looking at the burns she accidentally created on David's body in horror. Her secret was out.

"It hurts," David said, his fingertips grazing the injuries she had inadvertently caused him.

"I…I…"

"How did this happen?" he asked, looking at her as if she had three heads. Elina knew she had to explain herself, but what if he didn't understand? Not even Lily knew about her hereditary abilities—she began to worry.

"I…oh no!" she whined. David noticed the black, sooty handprints on his shirt with the charred holes through the palms and looked at her, terrified and anxious.

"I'm so sorry," she cried, shaking her head with disbelief as the wind blew her white-gold hair back off her face. David's horrified stare did not intimidate her as much as the thought of being treated badly for being different.

"I ain't gonna stand here," he retorted coldly, feeling the cold bite the fresh burns in his shoulders. Elina grabbed his hand, despite the risk of being caught, and led him into the house and to the kitchen, where she took a paper towel and soaked it in ice cold water, putting ice cubes in it as she folded it. She had David sit down and she knelt before him, his now shirtless body exposed as she tried to treat the burns she had created.

"Ah!" he winced as he felt the cold on the affected areas. Elina smiled sadly, the embers in her hazel-green eyes burning up at him softly as she applied an even amount of cold on his shoulders.

"That handprint," he said. "How did you burn me?"

"It's a long story," Elina replied, looking at the second-degree burn she had accidentally inflicted. She sighed, her eyes widening ever so slightly.

"I must be crazy, but…are you a witch?" he asked. She shook her head and chuckled.

"No. I'm a Christian," Elina said.

"But you burned me somehow," David replied. She alternated the cold application to the other burn, and he winced once again; it sure had been quite painful.

"And I'm trying to fix what I did," she replied, sounding cross as their eyes met.

"So you _did_ burn me," David concluded. "How?"

"I…" Elina paused, sighing. "I was born with it."

"What?" He was clearly confused; _do you not understand simple English_, she thought.

"I was born with…the power to…create and…control fire," Elina repeated.

"But I am afraid that just as Eve was deceived by the serpent's cunning, your minds may somehow be led astray from your sincere and pure devotion to Christ," David said, quoting the Bible like his father would. He had been a Sunday school student his whole life and knew scripture like the back of his hand; his father just reinforced it at home. Elina just looked at him, disapproval written across her face; sure, she was a Christian, but didn't quite know what he was trying to say.

"It ain't Sunday," she said.

"That don't matter," David said. He suddenly felt like his father. "You're the devil in the form of a woman."

"No, I'm not," she said, taking the cold compress she had made away from his shoulder. "I'm a person. Just like you."

"Yet," he said, continuing his previous thought seamlessly, "you have bewitched me. I can't be one of God's children if I've fallen under your spell, Elina. In that case, teach me about your powers."

"What?" She sounded incredulous—how could he be this naïve considering he was older than her?

"You heard my words," David said, his handsome face staring up at her as she stood up to throw the makeshift cold compress away in the trashcan. "Teach me."

"I can't teach you," Elina said.

"Why not?"

"Because I was _born_ with it. I didn't learn it," she answered.

"Well then, that'll give you more to work with when teachin' me," he said, trying to perfect his argument.

"No, I can't," Elina said. She then sighed, looking up at the ceiling with her pale white hands on the island counter. "It ain't that simple. I can't just_teach_ someone. You either have it or you don't."

"That sucks for me, then. I wanted to learn how to light a candle, or create fires without usin' a match, or light a cigarette without a lighter," he said, standing up and looking down at the unfathomably beautiful girl dressed in nothing but her nightgown, a thick cardigan, and her shoes.

"Well, you can't if you don't have it," Elina repeated.

"At the very least, can I see you create fire?" David asked.

"Don't push your luck," she replied arrogantly. "Go home."

"I don't wanna go home, Elina," he said. "I wanna stay right here with you."

"You _can't_," she said with an emphatic whisper. "If my father sees you, he's going to shoot you."

"Then I'd rather lay dyin'," he proclaimed in a soft whisper, caressing the girl's angelic face as he looked into her eyes. Elina had an idea to get him out of her hair; she had never tried it before, but it was worth a shot. She centered her thoughts so that anything could be made possible by her power; she could control fire and lift things with her mind—why not try healing up his burns?

Elina placed her warm, pale hands on David's shoulders, and as he winced with pain, he gasped at the dim blue light emanating from the girl's hands as he felt a strange cooling sensation against his skin. The redness was going away, the blisters were becoming like flat skin again, and the burning pain from the injury faded away within a matter of minutes. She took her hands away to see what she had done to repair the damage, and was astonished to see that his skin went back to normal; as if she hadn't burnt him at all. David, amazed at what Elina could do, smiled down at her.

"You really are somethin'," he said. "Why didn't you done that sooner?"

"I didn't think I _could_," Elina answered.

* * *

><p>David had promised not to share Elina's secret with anyone, but in the meantime, March was a slow month followed by April; it was a huge month for Adam. His transition to becoming a male was completed with the gender reassignment surgery he had been waiting for to turn his external female parts into functioning male ones. Audrey, the love of his life, had taken a flight down during the week of his operation and waited with him in the hospital for hours. Toby, Jules and Elina were all in school, but Jimmy, Britta, Dot and Bette and Suzy were also there for support—Britta still had reservations about the idea.<p>

Adam had mentioned Audrey in passing to both parents, even though Jimmy knew she was his girlfriend; she was quite striking in person, and was just as beautiful as their son had described her to be both inside and out. Her hair was raven black and styled in such a way that it framed her chiseled, but defined face; a layered 'do with a light fringe. Her eyes were exactly like he described—blue diamonds, or like sparkling, clear, azure water that could be found in a lagoon on a tropical island. Her makeup was light, but highlighted her best features, adding to her overall peaceful persona. The family admired her and received her well, opening their home to her so she had a place to stay; they loved how through thick and thin she was by Adam's side with undying loyalty. Sure, she had proposed to take a break from their relationship, but she still loved him very much and enough to support him through this huge life change.

Two hours after waking up from recovery, Adam smiled as he saw his family walking into the room, including Audrey, whom he had seen the first day she came to Barnwell. It had been the first time seeing her in what seemed like forever, and he remembered wrapping his arms around her and refusing to let go; letting her scent ravage his nose; letting the feel of her body take him back to long, passionate nights; the sound of her voice the music to his lyrics...Audrey was his angel, and when he saw her once again in the hospital room, he smiled brightly and kissed her as she leaned down for him.

"How do you feel?" she asked him.

"Like I got the world in the palm of my hand," Adam replied, looking up at her with dazed, dark brown eyes.

"Hey, son," Jimmy said; he fully accepted his child as a fourth son, his eldest, of course.

"Hey, dad," Adam replied. He groaned in pain, touching the side of his torso under his arm—they had taken a skin graft to form a fully functioning male genitalia. It had been stitched closed, and the wound had been dressed while he was in recovery.

"What's the matter?" Bette asked with a concerned look on her usually cheerful face.

"They took skin off my side," Adam said, trying to relax back in the hospital bed. "Hurts like hell."

"Well, it'll heal up. Give it time," Jimmy said, looking down at the mop of long strawberry-blonde hair on his son's head. Adam looked back up at him, moving his frizzy fringe aside to reveal his rather pale forehead. Britta stared at her new son, but had not said a word to him at all, yet she was willing to speak to him once he said something to her. Adam was not to be released from the hospital so soon, but within an hour, the family agreed to leave.

"We'll leave you alone," Dot said shortly before everyone left—Audrey was the only one who stayed.

"You're staying?" Jimmy asked the young woman. She nodded.

"I can take a train," she said, her soft-spoken, airy voice filling the room as she sat in the seat closest to Adam's bedside.

"See you later," he said. "Get well, son."

"Thanks, dad," Adam said, watching them leave.

Once the room was empty with no one but he and Audrey there, he looked over at her, admiring her as she smiled brightly at him with pride. She was truly happy for him, and it showed in her pearly-white grin. Her blue diamond eyes sparkled at him as he reached his hand to caress her lower face, lifting her chin up so he could see the changes she had overcome herself; her hair style was shorter and more voluminous, and her clothing was a bit more sophisticated—he remembered her long, black hair loose and how she had been a fan of peasant tops, bright colors, frills and bell bottoms. Too bad the years of peace and love were coming to an end.

"You still look amazing, Audrey," he said with a blush. She looked at him and laughed gently, her eyes still sparkling at him.

"I didn't look good before?" she asked jokingly.

"It isn't that," he told her, grinning at her joke. He took a sigh, stroking the corner of her mouth with the side of his index finger. "You get more beautiful everyday."

"I'm so proud of you, Adam," she said, taking his hand and kissing his closed fingers gently. "No matter what got in your way, you still pressed through. You made it."

"And now I have a dick," he said. They both laughed so hard they turned purple.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"I love you," Adam said once he stopped laughing. He held her hand, and it was cool to the touch; she stared at him and smiled again, lost in his deep, dark eyes that looked so much like his father's.

"I love you, too, Adam," she said, a loving gaze directed at him.

With that, they embraced tightly; she leaned over and rested her chin on his shoulder, sighing with contentment as she felt his strong arms around her. A tear of joy was shed, and it rolled down her cheek as she smiled—Adam, on the other hand, took in her intoxicating scent, feeling her feminine form against his. He felt complete, whole, like himself. Everything was in perfect order, and nothing could ruin the moment.

"Is this the end of our break?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Yeah," Audrey replied, letting go to stare into his eyes.

He leaned in and kissed her tenderly—he missed the feeling of her lips.

He missed her.

He missed everything.

He had moved back to New York with Audrey as soon as he recovered. It would take a full year for the name on his Social Security, driver's license, and other important documents to change to his new one. His family had all wished him luck on his journey back in his camper with Audrey in it with him; the one person who would miss him the most was Elina. As a woman, her sibling had taught her the difficulties of love. As a man, her sibling had taught Elina acceptance and tolerance of people's differences other than deformities like her father's syndactyly, Bette and Dot's conjoined body, or Suzy's lack of legs.

Yet the emotional tears of happiness would remain uncounted—in fact, there would be more tears to come.

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><p><strong>Hey guys! Feel free to leave a Review and maybe a Favorite? Thanks <strong>**J**


	16. Chapter 16

_July 1980_

She was cold; overcome with a dreadful, sickly pallor. He looked down at her peaceful, sleeping face; oh, how angelic she looked as she slept. He had seen it every morning and every night for twenty-six years. She was ageless, with not a wrinkle to mar her smooth, fair skin, and barely enough grays to turn her golden blonde hair to the color of a stormy, cloudy sky. She lay there, still and soundly.

"Good morning, doll," Jimmy had said, rolling on his side like he always did so he could be greeted by his sleeping wife. There was no answer.

"Britta?"

He put a hand to her sleeping face; she felt frigid like the cold winters of her northern homeland. The pallor that had taken over her fair complexion was disturbingly unhealthy; yet, even so, her lips were healthy as though she were only sleeping. He tried to gently shake her awake; no movement. He began to suspect something was terribly wrong, and when he put his fused fingers up to her neck to feel for a pulse, there was none—he could not believe it.

"Britta, wake up," he said worriedly, continuing to shake her lifeless body. "Please! Please!"

He felt tears roll down his face, his heart breaking in a million pieces as he put a hand over her chest to feel no heartbeat, or the rising and falling that resembled breathing. He was in denial; _she can't be dead. Not this soon_, he thought. He got out of bed, pulling the covers back as he rushed to his wife's side of the bed, taking the covers off her body as he took her arm and dragged her—she had fallen to the floor, causing some livid bruising in her pale, corpse-like skin. She was weightless as the sound of a thud and sliding took up the area upstairs.

"DON'T DIE ON ME!" Jimmy shouted frantically, tears coming down his face as he dragged his wife's body down the hallway to the bathroom. "DON'T YOU DIE ON ME, BRITTA!"

He took Britta's inert corpse toward the bathtub, and just when he stepped in, pajamas and all, he sat her body down in front' of him, the stench of decaying matter coming to existence as Jimmy turned on the showerhead, allowing clear, icy cold droplets of water to fall mostly on Britta with the hopes of waking her up. He held her pallid, adipose hand; what was one small, beautiful, white and delicate was now stiff, yellowing at the nails, livid, and pale beyond measure. He screamed, sobbing as the water came down on him and the body of his wife. The bathroom door, open wide for the children to see, was first attended to by Jules, who looked at the morbid scene in shock.

"Dear Lord!" he exclaimed. His father continued to scream and sob, and water continued to sprinkle out of the showerhead.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Toby, seeing his pallid, dead mother in the tub with his father. "I'm callin' the cops!"

"Dad! Why are you—AHH!" Christopher exclaimed, seeing Toby run downstairs to dial the emergency number. "Is that Mamma!? What the fuck happened?!"

"Britta…my…my Britta…my sweet…" Jimmy muttered under his breath, crying into her golden-turned-ashen hair.

"Dad! Answer me!" Christopher said.

All Jimmy did was cry, wail, sob, and scream aside from muttering to himself and in the ear of Britta's corpse. When an ambulance finally came, along with the police, they were directed by a frightened Toby to the upstairs area, and once they entered the bathroom, they heard Jimmy screaming blood murder. A police officer tried to confiscate Britta's corpse and lay her on a specially-prepared plastic sheet so that she could easily be transferred to a body bag; Jimmy resisted.

"Don't take my wife! She did nothing wrong!" he shrieked.

"Sir, we need to. She's gone now," the officer said, trying to be cordial but assertive.

"No, she ain't gone! It's too soon! She wouldn't leave without me," Jimmy sobbed, his eyes beet red and covered with salty tears. The officer reached toward the faucet and turned off the showerhead, hearing the man's frantic sobbing as he tried to ease Britta's body out of his arms.

"Please, sir. She needs to come with us," the officer said, his latex-covered hands taking the livid corpse away from Jimmy as the man stared frantically. He watched as her body was laid on the plastic sheet, and a paramedic on the scene checked her vitals with a blood pressure cuff, a stethoscope, and the second officer prepared a body bag.

"She's dead."

Her cause of death was unknown; the family believed she died in her sleep. After babbling to himself in front of a cop who had come to the scene, he was taken to the mental ward of the hospital for four days where he received necessary treatment. Meanwhile, another disturbing scene became apparent to the Darling brothers as they witnessed Elina, who had taken her horse Dagmar on an early morning ride, walking toward the house engulfed in flames. She was burning! Her entire body covered in enough flames to scorch and char a normal person alive! Yet she walked as though she weren't on fire at all, and not one bit of her flawless, unfathomably gorgeous self was marred by the flames. More disturbing, the flames changed from a normal color to every color on the spectrum— its normal color to bright red, bright red to yellow, yellow to lime green, lime green to teal, teal to blue, blue to indigo, indigo to violet, violet to fuchsia, fuchsia to pink, and pink back to red. The cycle seemed endless, and as Christopher, Toby and Jules stared out the dining room window, they were horrified at the eerie sight. It was the light of day; Jules could see she had been weeping.

The funeral was held when Jimmy came out of psychiatric care in the hospital, and he had a hard time making arrangements because a burial service had cost so much and they didn't have money for one especially since Dell died just months before. He wanted to honor his wife in the best way he could, even though he was too depressed to even think about funeral expenses. Luckily, his three sons lent a hand in choosing her coffin, getting floral arrangements, and their church pastor to perform a service in her memory. Jimmy ordered for the casket to be closed—he did not want to see some superficial, made-up-to-look-like-Britta version of his wife.

Half of Barnwell, who had known the Darling family, had come to pay their respects and mourn over their great loss. Adam and Audrey even came down from New York to attend to funeral, while Paul and Eve did the same—not a dry eye was seen among the mourners. Bette cried so hard her eyes turned red, and even Dot shed a few tears to express her sorrow. As for Adam, even though his mother had given him problems about his behavior regarding his gender over the years, he still couldn't help but shed a few tears—Audrey was there to pat his back and be there for him, per usual. Toby, who rarely ever cried since he was a child taking his tantrums, did so during his mother's funeral. Jules was practically sobbing, and Christopher shed tears as well with his girlfriend Leanne consoling him. Elina, who was sitting next to her silently despondent father, bawled her eyes out and had gone through a lot of tissues just wiping her eyes. Jimmy was silent, yet one could see the look in his eyes and tell that he was not alright at all, sitting there as the pastor conducted the funeral service:

"Ladies and gentleman," he began in a solemn voice. "We are gathered here today to remember and honor the life of Britta Elisabeth Darling. During her time with us, she was a beloved community member and a devoted member of our church congregation." Everyone kept sobbing, wiping their eyes as he continued with the memorial.

"She was born on June 3, 1935 on the island of Gotland in Sweden. She is preceded in death by her parents, Hans Nordlund and Frida Magnusdotter-Nordlund."

The services continued, and as a few hymns were sung and prayers were said to commemorate Britta's life with them on earth, people continued to sob and weep with grief of their loss. Even the citizens of Barnwell who had known her in passing couldn't help but be moved by the service. Mr. Loring, who had made it to the funeral service with his son David, had also shed a tear or two out of sympathy for Jimmy—_that poor man_, he thought, _I know exactly what it's like to lose a wife_. He had been sitting in front of Dot and Bette, and he gazed back at Jimmy's solemn, joyless expression. _He can't even function. I can't help but feel bad_.

The funeral ended with Britta's coffin being carried to the cemetery, which was not far from the church, so the procession could go by foot. Everyone wore black, and people who drove by gave their horns a honk out of respect for their loss. It had begun to rain heavily, and even thunder and lightning was occurring; it was quite loud and very intimidating—Mr. Loring and his son went to stand closer to the Darlings with the older gentleman consoling Bette's head on his shoulder and his son standing by Elina. She glanced up at him, the brim of her black hat framing her fiery, sad eyes as he looked down at her sadly. He was holding an umbrella, and welcomed her underneath it as he put his arm around her shoulder—Jimmy had not protested, mainly because he was too sad to even give a damn let alone notice.

Britta's death had been the one event in the lives of the Darling family to change everything drastically—_but at least she's with Ma_, Jimmy thought sadly. He missed his mother, as well; she had her own shortcoming, which was having a beard. She had been the one to raise him, even if it was in a carnie setting. The day she died was disastrous for the family—his wife had suffered her third miscarriage in a row, even though she went on to have another one a few years later. Everyone was just depressed; yet as Jimmy looked over where his wife used to sleep, he sighed solemnly and moved to the center of the bed. He lay on his side, burying his face in her pillow and sobbing. He could still smell her sweet, golden hair, remembering how it fanned out around her head as she slept. _Lavender_, he thought. His heartstrings were torn to shreds—there was no fixing him now.

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><p><strong>Hello, hello! Keri, here! I'm sorry for making you guys all sad and depressed; after all, death is a part of life. Also, sorry about the <em>Murder House<em> reference in the beginning—if you look closely, Jimmy's hospital stay is closely related to _Asylum_, and Elina's hat at the funeral looks like Taissa's from _Coven_! Surprise! **

**Leave Reviews and Favorite, if you'd like. Thanks for reading!**


	17. Chapter 17

**NOTE: **_This is written in first-person as_ **Elina's **_point of view. I saw a review of someone asking for another POV chapter, so I decided to give it a shot! _

My father wasn't the same after mamma died, in fact things just got worse for him as time went on. He walked around looking like a million miles of bad road—he shaved less, didn't bathe as much, and always smelt like he had downed three bottles of liquor. I looked outside the window one day to remember what life was like before my mamma died; as the months passed, crops sure had grown, but it was also our last farmer's market. We made a lot of money, but it still did nothing to raise my father's spirits.

By the time I was fifteen going on sixteen, my father and I were the only people left in the house—Christopher married Leanne, Toby was in college, and Jules joined the Army at only eighteen. Suzy had found a job as a cashier at the convenience store and made enough money to move out; I didn't quite know how she'd make it. She had no legs. I didn't even know how she did her job. I stopped in one day to see her during her shift; she was held up by a metal stool with a back on it, and she never worked alone.

"My boss wants me to work with someone," Suzy had told me after ringing up a customer.

"What if they're at the bathroom or on break?" I asked.

"My shifts are short. Only five hours," she answered, looking up at me with those dark eyes of hers. "They only get a break when I leave. They work double the hours than me. I'm lucky, 'cause I just get to stay here on my stool ringing up items."

Something in me had also changed—I was more outgoing. I hung out with Lily more often, and we were more daring in our "adventures", as we often hung out as night. My father didn't seem to give two shits about where I went; it wasn't like him, you see. He always babied me, but in a way, I kinda missed that part of him. However, there were times when he was sober when he would ask where I was going—the moment mentioned Lily, he went about his business. He didn't even seem to notice the changes in my appearance I had begun to adopt; I started to wear pants, I dyed my hair, and began to wear makeup. I also started smoking cigarettes. I don't think I would consider myself looking like a streetwalker, but I didn't look like the prude my mamma was trying to create.

So I dyed my hair with the help of Lily and her hairdresser in town—it wasn't a drastic change, but I had my hair cut and permed to make it more voluminous, and the color looked more like a normal blonde color. I began to_hate_ my snow-white, ghostly-looking hair color. I was born with it, and it was just too much to look at anymore. On top of that, my hair was naturally wavy, so this new style really stood out—I felt like one of the cool kids. We had gone shopping that day, too—I didn't have to pay a cent. Lily's mama was so generous, and I got a lot of stuff that truly expressed my inner self. I was actually fifteen at the time of this makeover, and it was the summer before sophomore year of high school.

Yet with all the hype of my social life, I felt lonely—sure, I had Lily and some other school acquaintances, but being the only one in my house besides my dad was quite a sad experience. My brothers had all up and left; Bette and Dot moved in with Mr. Loring and lived in the lap of luxury; Suzy had saved up money to move out. We were all alone. My father was also unpredictable; his moods would change every day, but he never raised a hand to me, never treated me like the scum of the earth, and I know it was the drink that made him do it. In fact, I felt kinda bad for him—losing my mother had pushed him over the edge.

I had only found out he had a drinking problem when I was fourteen, and once I saw him drinking in front of me, I tried to talk him out of it.

"Dad," I said. "Are you feeling ok?" I took a seat next to him, and he just looked down into his drink, smoke emanating from his cigarette. A layer of thick stubble had grown on his face; he was very unsightly.

"Talk to me," I whispered.

"How was your day?" he asked. He really seemed out of it.

"It was fine. How was yours?" I questioned.

"Same old…same old," he slurred, taking another sip of whiskey. However, before he could take the sip down his gullet, I stopped him using just my mind. He grunted and slurred nonsense as he realized I had controlled his arm via telekinesis to put the drink back on the table. When he did, he glared at me.

"Stop it," he said.

"No, you stop it. You're going to pass out again," I said.

"Let me," he said, glancing over at me without actually making eye contact.

"Dad, you're clearly drunk," I said as I shook my head.

"Get out," he said, shaking his head absent-mindedly. "Get out."

"Fine."

I remember sneaking into his room in the middle of the night to use my power on him; the aim was to try and heal his liver, heart, and mind so that he could get out of his drunk, blacked-out stupor sooner than usual. I did this quite often, and he didn't even know I was there helping him. I had projected white healing light into his body, but after a while I stopped because he would wake up as if nothing happened only to start drinking again. Meanwhile, the farm that was once green, flourishing and fertile was now a barren wasteland; the earth had become a victim of neglect. I, too, was a victim of neglect; emotional neglect.

I was fifteen, though, so I don't think it was neglect in the same way as a young child being deprived of food or water by an irresponsible parent. Yes, my father was irresponsible when he was drunk, but he was not abusive—he just hadn't paid me the same affection as it was when I was a child or as it was from when before my mamma died. It felt like he wasn't really my father anymore, but more like a roommate or just a lazy vagrant in my house. I mentioned the farm before—my father didn't even get up off his ass and do work like he always did. He just let the five acres of beautiful farmland we owned turn to dust—in autumn, I had seen crows pecking at the soil with the hopes of finding their own share of our yearly output. What a shame.

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><p>In spring 1982, my father was ripshit to realize that our farm and home were to be foreclosed. I was sitting right there in the real estate office next to him, and the realtor, an older woman, watched him have a conniption—I could tell he was clearly drinking that morning, and furthermore, I was worried. Where were we supposed to go if we lost our farm and home?<p>

"This is BULLSHIT!" he shouted. "I've owned that land for TWENTY-FIVE YEARS! TWENTY-FIVE YEARS! I made a living off that land! And you think it's ok to just SNATCH it from us just like that!?"

"Sir, I'm sorry but you haven't paid your bills in six months," the realtor revealed. My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped open; for real? How could he have forgotten to pay bills!

"Dad!" I exclaimed in shock.

"THIS AIN'T FAIR!" he shouted, continuing his fit.

His shouting and fit of rage at the realtor did nothing to fix any damage he had done—the state took our farm and land, and we had no where to go. To make matters much worse, we had to sell off my horse, Dagmar. I was so furious, crying my eyes out when my father suggested that. He was sober, and hadn't taken a drink all day when he said it, and I wanted nothing more than to off him right then and there. I loved my horse! How could he have done that?

Before she was sold off, I took a final ride on her, and I felt like I was conquering the land with the wind in my face and the sun in my hair. Every gallop, every slow trot, everytime the wind wanted to mess up my hair, I cherished it—I knew I would never get it back again; I was still mad at my father, though. He set her price as $2,000, and a nearby farmer, the father of one of Adam's friends, had purchased her for a price higher by $500. My father's excuse was something I had never heard from his mouth before.

"We need the money," he said. "We're getting out of town."

"Where?" I asked harshly, looking at him and projecting my anger into him. His answer was slow, but he took a breathy sigh.

"Jupiter."

* * *

><p>It turned out to be small town in Florida, and apparently, my father had lived there for a good majority of his early life. It had been the home base of the freak show he performed in with my mamma, and they had met there. I hated it, probably because I wasn't used to not being on a farm, but it was just too plain. Barnwell was plain, but Jupiter was worse, at least in my opinion. I missed Lily; I missed our group of friends; I missed our farm; I missed my horse, Dagmar; I missed my church, yet I had stopped going on Sundays shortly after the loss we faced; I missed my brothers, even though Christopher refused to open his home to us because my father was a filthy drunk; I missed my mamma, and the times I could sing in Swedish and not cry without remembering her; I missed Suzy and the twins Dot and Bette, even though I know they were each well-off in their own ways—those lucky twins, living in the lap of luxury as we were becoming poorer by the minute.<p>

I missed everything.

My new school seemed decent on the first day, but the guys in my classes…what can I say? They were pigs! Disgusting, dirty perverts! All of them stared at me, and as soon as I was welcomed as the new kid by the teacher, I heard cat-calls and whistling as I took an empty seat in the back of the classroom nearest the window. As I gazed down at the flat surface of the desk, I felt the eyes of those creeps gawk at me as if I were some freak. Then again, my parents were both freaks—I just got the short end of the stick with people staring at me. It wasn't like I was wearing anything flashy, just some straight-leg blue jeans, sneakers and a plain pink sweater that was off the shoulder and showed the white tank top underneath. The teacher approached me, and I gazed up at her. She seemed nice, on the outside.

"Welcome, Elina," she said. "We'll get your textbook and other stuff tomorrow." I nodded, and I somehow could read her thoughts before she started speaking again.

"Class," she said, looking at everyone else in the room. "I hope we can all make Miss Darling feel welcome here in not only the school, but our town."

Everyday going to school, wandering the halls to find my classes, I felt like a ghost—my hair hadn't been so platinum anymore since I dyed it, so it wasn't totally literal. Yet, it was terrible; the boys called me "snow bunny", and the girls just ignored me. On top of that, I had a father who couldn't give to shits about me. I never felt so hated in all my life.

My father had also started dating again—God only knows what disgusting things would happen when he brought a girl home for the night. Luckily, I blared my stereo and played records. Every time I heard a moan from across the hallway in our apartment, I simply turned up the radio—simple as that.


	18. Chapter 18

"Oh yes! Oh yes! _Sí_! Harder!"

He did so, plunging into her harder while reaching one of his deformed fingers down to rub her sensitive pearl, making her gasp and beg for more.

"Ah! _Dios mio_!"

"Yeah, baby."

"Make me cum! Oh yes! _Sí_!"

She was the seventh girl Jimmy had casual sex with since moving back to Jupiter—at his age, he had no problem getting an erection. It was simply as though he were a young man again, even though he was fifty-one years of age. This woman, younger than him by at least twenty years, had been looking for some casual fun because her own husband had been distant and aloof. She even paid him handsomely just to have a night of fun; $300 was the amount given. When he felt himself about to climax, he pulled himself out and stroked his hard member until his warm, sticky cum splooged all over the woman's shapely abdomen. She had an olive skin tone with black hair and great dark eyes, and her makeup was quite heavy with her eyelids overdone with purple glitter and fake lashes, her eyebrows filled in to a perfect arch, and her lips painted bright crimson with lipstick—she was pretty, for sure, and Cuban-American.

She moaned, looking down after he had released all over her and swiping a finger over the white, sticky fluid before putting it to her devil red lips, sticking out her tongue to taste it. She savored the taste as she sucked on her finger, gazing up at Jimmy's handsome yet aged face. She knelt up, and looked up, feeling his deformed hand caress her lower face and chin with a boyish grin.

"Oh, that was amazing," the woman said, laying back on the bed with her head on one of the brand new pillows that had come with Jimmy's new bed. The bed was already in the apartment when he got there; had he used the bed he had with Britta, he would've felt ashamed on so many levels.

"Yeah," he replied, pulling the sheet over them as he sat up to light a cigarette. Once he took his first drag, it became evident that music was playing very loudly from his daughter's bedroom. "Damn it."

"What, _cariño_?" the woman asked, leaning on Jimmy's chest; it had some hair which had come in over the years, but when he was younger, he had none at all.

"My daughter," he said, listening to the heavy music blaring:

"_It was the heat of the moment_

_Telling me what your heart meant_

_Heat of the moment shone in your eyes_

_And now you find yourself in '82_

_The disco hotspots hold no charm for you_

_You can't concern yourself with bigger things_

_You catch the pearl and ride the dragon's wings…_"

"How old is she?" the woman asked, her heavy Cuban accent sounding soft.

"Fifteen," he replied. He raised his voice ever so slightly. "Elina! Turn that down!"

She could hear him, but she didn't want to—she had been blaring her stereo for a reason. She did not want to hear her father doing the nasty with yet another girl he's brought home since they moved down there. Elina rolled her eyes and continued to drag on the cigarette she'd been working on, adjusting the bow that was in her voluminous, permed blonde hair—she would have snuck out totally from the apartment, but where did she have to go? Nowhere. So she just stayed put.

Late that night, Elina, clad in her pajamas, walked to the phone in the living room area of their apartment, dialing Adam's number to try and reach him. They had communicated once a week or every other week—he had been busy at his new job writing songs for recording artists, and he had been making more money than his previous job. She heard ringing until she finally heard a click and his voice.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Adam. I hope it's not too late for me to call you," Elina said. "I couldn't earlier."

"Oh, that's ok," he replied. "What's up?"

"Not much. I needed to talk to someone," Elina replied, leaning her back on the couch.

"What is it? Are you ok?" he asked.

"Dad is getting a bit…uh…" She stuttered a little, thinking of the right wording. "He's acting strange."

"He's been that way since mamma passed," Adam replied. "How's he been?"

"Well, ever since we moved here, he's been seeing girls and bringing them home." Elina lowered her voice to a whisper. "I hear them doing the deed, and I have to turn up my stereo to block it out. It's so annoying!" There was a slight giggle in his voice, and Elina hated it—he had no clue what went on everyday in their household.

"It's not funny, stop," she said.

"I'm not saying it is, but you gotta understand. He's trying to move on. He's trying to see other women so he can get his mind off…uh…you know what I mean, right?" Adam responded.

"But the girls are in their twenties and thirties! They're so much younger!" Elina exclaimed in her whisper. "It's really weird. Dad's, like, fifty."

"Sis, age is just a number" Adam said, clearing his throat. "Maybe he's having a…uh…you ever hear of a midlife crisis?"

"What?"

"Yeah. It happens to men dad's age. They try to act younger and like they're all that but really, it's all in their heads. It passes," Adam explained.

"Huh."

"It's not entirely bad," he said. "I know he's got a bit of a drinking problem. He's gotta see someone for that."

"I try to help him here. I've tried using my powers to heal him up from days of heavy drinking but he just gets up and drinks again the next day. I can't win," Elina explained, still whispering. "And…he has mood swings. When he's drunk, he loses it so easily."

"Mhm," Adam said, listening to every word. "I understand. Addictions are terrible. I would know. I did heroin and cocaine. They're a hell of a drug. Alcohol isn't as bad but…still causes problems." Elina had remembered when Adam first told her about his addictions—she was quite shocked, but admired how he pressed through and loved Audrey for getting help for him.

"It's not like he can see anyone. I don't know how else to help him," the girl said. "I want it to stop before he gets out of hand."

"Hm, well, it'll work out. Try making breakfast tomorrow morning for him. Give him orange juice or coffee instead of allowing him to go to the fridge for his fix," Adam suggested. "Start there. Maybe give your powers another try?"

"Thank you, Adam," Elina said with a smile. "Have a good night." She hung up and went straight to bed.

The following morning, Elina did her hair and got dressed and ready for school. She had picked out a denim jacket with a black lapel on the back with a cityscape etched in white. Her jeans were straight leg, like usual, but they had a distressed design to the front with abrasive rips in the denim. Underneath her denim jacket was a bright yellow bandeau with black polka dots and a sweetheart neckline to accentuate her generous cleavage—at fifteen, Elina had breasts larger than anyone in the classes at her new school, and the hourglass that had begun to take form in her preteens was now full fledged. She took a lot of liberty in the way she dressed after Britta's passing, and to her knowledge, Jimmy was too much of a drunk to even care how his daughter dressed.

However, Jimmy woke up not long after to the sound of familiar singing and the searing of a frying pan. The smell of toast filled the air, and he cocked his eyebrows suddenly to get a whiff. It also came to mind that the young Cuban woman had left during the night; he was somewhat disheartened, but luckily she had left the money she'd promised him on his bedside table near the cheap lamp. She was the only one of the seven women he had been with since being back in Jupiter to have promised him money for "services"—he hadn't serviced women in a long, long time. He focused his ears on the singing again, walking out of his bedroom and down the hall to see the back of Elina's voluminous blonde hair as she sang an all-too-familiar song:

"_När de gamla såren heta tära_

_När din kind är vätt av ensamhetens gråt_

_När att leva är att stenar bära_ _och din sång _

_är sorg som vilsna tranors låt_

_Gå och drick en fläkt av höstens vindar_

_Se med mig mot bleka blåa skyn_

_Kom och stå med mig vid hagens _

_grindar_ _när de vilda gässen flyga över byn_…"

He remained perfectly quiet as he heard his daughter's beautiful, ethereal voice—the sound had definitely improved since the last time he heard her sing. She had not sung in Swedish since before Britta passed, and hearing her was a breath of fresh air for him—he remembered how beautiful his wife's singing was, and his daughter had inherited that quality among many others from her. Elina had not sung in Swedish for a reason, and it was because it reminded her too much of her mother and how much she missed her. In fact, Elina's voice seemed to have a heavenly echo to its soprano tone. _It's better than Britta's was_, Jimmy thought as the girl sang the final note.

"Morning," he said. Elina, startled to see him there, turned her back on the stove and looked at her father. He gave her such a look; it was a very unusual kind of gaze. She didn't know how it was so strange, though. Was it her clothing choice?

"Oh!" she gasped. "Hey, dad."

"What are you doing?" he asked. _Why is he so calm_, she asked herself.

"Just thought I'd make some breakfast. Nothing major," Elina said as she put her focus back on the eggs.

The girl remained quiet, and Jimmy walked a few steps closer to fully analyze the image his mind had captured of his daughter. She only had gotten more beautiful as time passed, even though she always was an exquisite child. Now, it was like she had grown up; the poor girl was thirteen when his wife died, and despite his frequent drunkenness, he didn't fail to notice the changes that had come to his daughter—he had noticed when she dyed her hair a more normal shade of blonde, yet he didn't find anything wrong with her platinum, snow-white locks; he had noticed the change in her wardrobe and clothing choices, as he knew Britta would roll in her grave to see her wearing midriff-bearing bandeaus or even pants; he had noticed how outgoing she became back in Barnwell, but he knew he couldn't do anything about it due to his own personal problems; he noticed how her behavior had changed, as she began to wear makeup, smoke cigarettes, and be more distant from him—yet she got the impression that he couldn't care less about her. He did, truly he did. Aside from Britta's untimely demise, his frequent alcohol-induced tantrums, incoherence, and blackouts prevented him from showing her the love and care of a father.

"Your mother sang just like that," Jimmy finally said, going into the fridge to get out the bottle of vodka he had purchased the day before. Elina, knowing what he was doing without even setting a glance on him, turned around and concentrated on the bottle, which was only ¾ full and had signs of consumption. She closed her eyes and then opened them to see that she had successfully broken the bottle; the strong alcoholic beverage had spilled all over the floor and on the counter.

"Elina, c'mon!" he exclaimed. "I didn't even have one sip today."

"No, dad. No drinking," she replied sternly, looking up at him.

The look in his eyes was apologetic, but still very strange. He then glanced down at what she was wearing, from her denim jacket to her midriff-bearing yellow bandeau with black polka dots, to her distressed jeans and worn sneakers, to her voluminous, permed hair with a hair ribbon that matched her bandeau, to that cleavage that showed a big portion of her large breasts—yes, those breasts. He also noticed how womanly her body had become. It made him strangely uncomfortable, so he stuttered at her.

"E-Elina?" he began nervously. "P-Please cover y-yourself up. P-P-Please?" She was preparing his dish, taking two strips of bacon, an egg sunny-side up, and a slice of golden toast from whatever she used to cook and put them on a plate, walking over to the small card table that served as their dining area.

"Breakfast is served, dad," she said, ignoring his request. "Now, about that mess—"

"Elina, please c-cover yourself up," he repeated. As she grabbed paper towels, she cleaned the mess made from the vodka and threw any fragments of broken glass away in the trash. As she cleaned, Jimmy couldn't help but stare down as she knelt to wipe up the mess—her cleavage was huge. He couldn't help but just stare; he felt extremely guilty, but it was right there in front of his face.

"Cover up," he repeated. She stood up and looked at him, throwing the last paper towel away.

"Why do you care all of a sudden so much about how I dress?" Elina asked arrogantly.

"Because…look at you!" Jimmy exclaimed, taking a bite from his breakfast. "You're hanging out everywhere! Have some decency!"

"Ugh, now you sound like mamma. Don't act like that, please. I'm begging you," his daughter answered. "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I'll zipper my jacket a bit. Does that sound ok?"

"Well, I guess," Jimmy replied, his eyes fixed up at his daughter's, their fiery green-hazel color magnetic and frighteningly gorgeous. As she zipped it up, he stared, but also kept his eyes on his food. She looked better, and he was more comfortable—her cleavage was not as prominent, but their size definitely was.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yeah. Go to school. I'll see you later," he said.

"I haven't eaten yet, though," she protested. Jimmy took a sigh, rolling his eyes and staring up at her with their dark color.

"Elina, just go," he said. She threw her hands up in the air and dropped them to her sides, making a sound against the denim of her jacket, and walked out of their apartment—he watched her before resuming eating his food.

Elina walked to school in the springtime Floridian heat with the sun reflecting off her light blonde hair, making passersby stare at her as they moved past her on the sidewalks leading up to the high school, where, upon reaching the campus, she walked past groups of people who looked at her in different ways; one girl looked at her condescendingly, while a group of boys whistled at her and looked at her lasciviously. One even approached her, moving the sides of his open, button-up shirt aside to reveal his t-shirt underneath as he made his way over suggestively. "Hey, snow bunny," the boy said breathily.

"I wanna see how good that denim looks on my bedroom floor." Elina, feeling uncomfortable, looked him straight in the eye and lashed her razor sharp tongue at him.

"I'm so glad you never will," she retorted. The group of boys was so shocked at her backlash, and she smirked proudly when she saw that the boy she shot down was embarrassed.

"OOOHHHH!" the boys shouted in unison.

Elina managed to walk off and go into the building to the cafeteria, where they were serving small breakfast items—she grabbed a chocolate chip muffin and a small carton of orange juice, taking a seat by herself. She took a bite as soon as she placed her backpack on the table in front of her, and she put a straw into the carton and took a sip. With her fiery, passionate hazel-green eyes staring into space, her mind got stuck in a daydream—she pictured flames invoked from her own mind consuming the cafeteria, roaring down the halls to melt the metal lockers and flesh off the students, turning every piece of paper from workbooks and textbooks to charred ash, exploding the building to smithereens until—

"Elina? Is that you?"

Hearing the voice, she snapped out of her disturbing reverie and looked side to side and looked up to her left to see a familiar face on a tall frame; he had dark blonde hair, and his blue eyes looked down at her kindly as they tried to delve deeper into her own hazel-green ones for his answer. He looked enchanted by her unearthly beauty—the gaze in her eyes was like pure fire, warmth infused with a hint of mystery; her high cheekbones were defined by a thin layer of pink blush, allowing them to stand out more; her heart-shaped jawline made her face look smaller and more dainty; her black eyelashes, made longer by a thick layer of mascara, framed her eyes perfectly and contrasted the bright metallic pink eyeshadow that covered her eyelids. The makeup was pretty, despite being a bit heavy, but she still looked beautiful. Elina realized who it was—it was Nick, the son of her mother's old friend Sigrid.

"Nick?" she asked. He took a seat across from her, and the faux leather of his green and yellow letter jacket glistening slightly from the lights in the cafeteria.

"Yeah, you remember me!" he exclaimed, giving a smile—he had gotten much better looking since she last saw him.

"How've you been?" she asked.

"I've been alright," Nick said, staring into her eyes and admiring her beauty. "What are you doing in Jupiter?" Elina sighed reluctantly and thought of her dad, rolling her eyes.

"I just moved here a week or two ago," she replied. "My dad wanted to come here."

"Yeah? Are your brothers and sister ok?"

"It's just _brothers_," Elina said, taking a sip of orange juice.

"What happened to Annika?" Nick asked with confusion upon hearing her statement.

"It's a long story, but I'll tell you," she said. "_She_ is now a _he_, you see. Apparently she wasn't really born a female, so…"

"So they fixed her up? Surgery?" he asked.

"Yeah," Elina said. "Adam is his name, he lives in New York. Jules is in the Army. Toby is in college, and Christopher got married and still lives in Barnwell. It's just me and my dad here."

"Just you two?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows inward. "What about your mother?"

"She passed away," Elina said, taking a bite of her muffin. Nick gasped—why hadn't he heard about this? He knew his mother, Sigrid, would have wanted to attend the funeral.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed, a horrified expression on his face. "What happened to her?"

"She just went in her sleep. They couldn't find out how or why," Elina said, pursing her lips downward. "My dad's had a few screws loose ever since."

"Oh, Elina, I'm so sorry," he said apologetically. "That's terrible."

"I'm over it now," she said—that was a lie in its purest form.

"Well, let me know if—"

The bell for the first class of the day rang loudly, encouraging groups of students to scurry down the halls to prevent angry teachers asking for late passes. Elina stood up in a flash and collected her trash, slinging her backpack over the left shoulder as she walked toward the trash bin to throw out the remnants of her breakfast—Nick followed her, staring at the back of her voluminous blonde hair and, even more, at how good her butt looked in her jeans. He raised his eyebrows when she turned around to see him still there.

"Oh! Uh…" He suddenly felt nervous. "W-What class do you have?"

"I think…French?" Elina guessed, trying to remember her schedule. "Yeah. French."

"Aw, crap. I have phys ed. I guess I'll see you around?" Nick replied, taking a few steps back from her and smiling.

"Maybe," she replied.

When Elina came home from school that day, she opened the door of the apartment to see a stack of boxes situated on the card table in the dining area. Walking closer, she looked into the open one on the top only to see that it was empty; she turned around to see her father slouched back on the couch, his head turned downward as if he were dozing off in a drunken stupor. Elina walked rapidly over to him to see that he was neither asleep nor drunk, but looking down in a photo album with a worn brown hardcover.

"Dad?" she asked. Jimmy glanced up, seeing his daughter standing in front of him out of the corner of his eye, before looking back down into the black and white pictures of the photo album.

"Hey," he said somberly.

"You seem happy. What've you been doing all day?" Elina asked haughtily. _You better not have drank anything_, she thought, hoping he would say no.

"Just…looking through photos," he said, turning the page.

She walked over to the couch and placed her backpack on the coffee table, sitting down next to her father and peering into the open album to see a rich, black and white photo of a handsome young man with the spotlight creating an exaggerated backdrop shadow of his form. The front of his hair was curled and loaded with gel, and he wore plain blue working jeans and a short sleeved shirt as the spotlight illuminated his grotesquely deformed hands—his index and middle fingers were fused as one large digit on each hand, while the ring and pinky fingers were fused as another. Elina then noticed a messy signature and illegible writing on the lower right hand corner of the page; she also noticed Jimmy's proud look on his face.

"That's me," he said.

"When was this taken?"

"1952, I think. I was twenty-one, I think," Jimmy answered.

"What does all that say?" Elina asked, pointing at the handwriting in black that she could not read.

"My signature," he said. "Then it says, '_Lobster Boy_'."

"Why is it so messy?" she asked; he then raised one of his deformed hands for her to see, looking at her as though she had asked a stupid question.

"I always had trouble writing because of my hands," Jimmy said with a sad sigh. "I learned how to, you know, write better as years went by."

"Is that what they called you? Lobster Boy?" Elina asked.

"Yeah. That was my most hated insult-turned-stage name," Jimmy replied, turning to page of the album to reveal Jyoti, the world's smallest woman, and Amazon Eve, the tallest woman, who had posed in a photo together dressed in winter gear while in Wisconsin. Jimmy remembered the year; 1947. As he continued to turn the pages, Elina saw Dell the Strongman, her grandfather, and Ethel Darling, America's Bearded Sweetheart and her grandmother.

"Who is that? She has a beard," she asked, pointing at the photo of Ethel staring into an ornate mirror.

"Your grandma," Jimmy said, smiling a little down at the photo of his mother. "Don't you remember me telling you she had a beard?"

"I never met her," Elina said, disregarding his last few words.

"She would've loved to see you all grow up," he said with a proud tone, turning the page.

The next photo was also the last in the album, and unlike the rest of them, this one was in full color showing a beautiful, young blonde-haired woman with a crown braid and light makeup. Her lips were soft and pink, and on the bridge of her nose were faint freckles that were few in number. Her face shape was distinctive with a heart-shaped, feminine jawline and graceful cheekbones. Her eyebrows, plucked thin to perfection, were filled in to a perfect arch, and her eyes were a magnificent, mystifying green shade that had a distinct sparkle to them. She appeared to be wearing a simple button-up blouse, but it was unclear about the bottom; her frame, however, was extremely slender with graceful collarbones, a small waist, and other unbelievably small proportions for a woman. Elina gasped, knowing exactly who it was.

"Mamma," she muttered. Jimmy nodded slowly, gazing down and admiring how beautiful his late wife was when they were young. She had been beautiful even as she got older; ageless, as her beauty defied the amount of years that passed.

"Yes," he began, getting tearful with emotion. "It is, sweetie."

Jimmy suddenly broke down, jerking back on the couch and pressing his palms into his dark eyes, preventing himself from breaking down in front of his daughter. Elina looked at him with concern as she heard him sobbing; she didn't quite know what to do to console him, but she didn't want him to flat out get up from his seat and walk to the fridge to grab more liquor to drown himself with along with his misery. He whined softly, shaking his head as he took his hands away from his eyes—Elina reached and patted the side of his muscular upper arm, looking at him sadly.

"Dad," she said softly. "She loved you."

"I love her still, so much," he cried, sobbing into his deformed hands once more as he leaned over. "I wish I could've done something to stop her from dying so soon like that."

"Dad, don't feel guilty," Elina said, tears developing in her eyes shortly after. "There was nothing you could do. I guess…" She began to cry, empathizing with her father. "God took her when he saw fit to."

"Oh god," Jimmy said, beginning to shout. "My life's been falling apart! I just don't know what to do anymore! It's so hard! I just…can't!"

"Dad, please stop," Elina begged, tapping the side of his arm as she cried with him. "I know mamma dying was hard but—"

"But nothing! It's no use! The damage is done!" he shouted, sobbing as he rubbed the front of his head. He then pointed his finger to away from the living room area and stared blankly at his daughter's jacket. "Leave."

"Dad, you can't be—"

"Please! Elina! For a little bit! Please! _Please_!" he begged.

Elina, frightened by her father's sudden mood swing, got up and ran to her room, closing the door and collapsing on the carpet, worried for him. As she calmed down, she heard the fridge open and a beer bottle come out of it. She leaned her head back against the door, whining softly to herself—_he needs to stop_, she thought hopelessly.


	19. Chapter 19

"Wouldn't you miss me? As mean as y'are sometimes, I'd miss _you_!"

Dot had been listening to Bette cry for close to an hour in protest when she heard the big news—Mr. Loring was willing to pay $500,000 dollars for the surgery to separate the conjoined twins to make them two separate women; his main motive was to have Bette to himself to marry her even though he would take either of them as his wife; the town church didn't allow more than one wife. Dot felt fulfilled; _finally_, she thought, _I'm breaking free from this cage_. Yet Bette was heartbroken with worry and sadness—she loved her sister despite the verbal abuse she had to take from her every day of their lives.

"One of us could die!" she wailed. Dot, who had remained silent during her sister's excessive crying session, glanced over to her sister's head on their body and spoke.

"And one of us will live," she sneered. "And live a full life."

"We're too old, anyway! Our twenties and thirties are gone! We're fifty-four!" Bette cried. "What would be the point? We can't have babies! We can't get married! We're nothin'!"

"Maybe you _both_ will live?" Mr. Loring suggested, croughing down to the floor to look up at the twin's pairs of dark eyes.

"Times have changed," Dot continued, strangely in the same thought pattern as the older gentleman. "Maybe we both'll live and get the chance to live our own lives. You won't have to deal with me anymore, and I won't have to deal with you, Bette. It's for the best, really."

"I'm hurt you'd think of sayin' that," Bette cried, taking a tissue to her wet, flooding eyes and her drippy nose.

"Bette, my darlin'," Mr. Loring said, looking up into her sad, teary brown eyes. "If you were separated, we can, you know, tie the knot. Just you and me. Dot won't be conjoined to you anymore. She'll be your maid of honor. I'll pay for the entire weddin'." He reached up to rest his wrinkled, but smooth hand on Bette's knee, feeling the fine fabric used to make their custom-fitted dress. "Get you in some white satin…Belgian lace…some mighty fine shoes…a veil…a necklace of diamonds…" He slid his hand slightly up the side of her thigh; Dot could feel the sensation and was instantly angry at the show of affection. "A garter…a gold weddin' ring…fine caviar and hors d'oeuvres for our guests…fine white roses in your hand as you come down the aisle of the church—"

"Are you for real?" Dot asked, her hand slapping his hand away from her sister's thigh. "How dare you?"

"How dare _I_? What do you mean?" he asked, looking up at her slyly. He reached into the breast pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a navy blue velvet box, flipping up the cover to reveal a beautiful engagement ring with a heart-cut pink diamond solitaire set in a thin gold band—Bette, who took in everything he was describing like a sponge, gasped with joy at the luxurious ring he had purchased for her to propose. Dot glanced over and glared at Mr. Loring.

"Charles!" her happier twin gasped.

"God gave me you, Bette, and I have to accept his gift. It's only his will that we be together," Mr. Loring said, staring up into her dark eyes. "Will you marry me?"

She took a moment to think about her response—her sad, morose expression turned to one of happiness and her tears of sorrow and worry turned to ones of joy as she bore a grin and smiled brightly at the older gentleman that had been showering them with gifts for the previous three years and was willing to fund the surgery to separate them into two women.

"Yes! Charles! _Yes_!" she exclaimed. He grinned and planted a kiss on her cheek, taking the ring out of the box and sliding it gently on the ring finger of her left hand. Bette raised it up slightly and gazed down at the beautiful, sparkling pink diamond on her ring.

"It's beautiful, Charles," she said, her eyes lit up from the surprise proposal.

"I'm glad you like it," Mr. Loring replied, smiling up at his new fiancée as he rubbed the side of her arm. "The weddin' will be nice. You'll make a mighty fine bride, darlin'."

"Oh Charles, you're so romantic," Bette cooed as he wiped her tears away. She took a moment of thought as he answered.

"I would not be funding an operation that would hurt my favorite ladies," Mr. Loring said. "Don't you worry."

* * *

><p>Two weeks had passed—Elina had enough.<p>

_I don't know how much more I can take_, she thought as she looked at him at dinner one evening; they had ordered Chinese food. _I don't even know how he's paying for all of our food and stuff_.

Jimmy was sitting across the card table from Elina with a glass of whiskey on the table and a box of lo-mien in front of him. He twirled his fork with each bite he took, savoring the sweet noodles as his daughter stared at him—she noticed how utterly catatonic and emotionless his facial expression was. Worse yet, he had not said two words to her since she came home. It was a Friday, and though Elina was glad the school week was done, she did not want to spend yet another weekend preventing her father from drinking himself to death like he had done since Britta died. Luckily, he hadn't had casual sex with local women in those two weeks that passed; him bringing home girls stopped suddenly, which Elina found to be a relief yet very strange. Then again, it wasn't like his behavior was like she always known it to be, especially with his alcoholism. The dining area was silent, and once she saw him pick up his whiskey to down a huge gulp, she cleared her throat slightly and tried to start a conversation with him.

"You know how you asked me what I want to be when I'm older?" she asked. He didn't answer, and poured himself more liquor. Elina looked down at her orange chicken and sighed.

"I want to be a nurse," she said after a moment of awkward silence. "I want to help people, you know? Go to nursing school…get trained…change someone's life…"

The silence was too much to bear. Jimmy was practically ignoring his daughter as he downed another huge gulp of whiskey, feeling it burn his throat as he made a grimace and sighed. Elina could not keep it in anymore, so she concentrated on the glass he drank from and the bottle of Jack Daniels on the table, causing it to smash into a thousand pieces as the shards of glass went everywhere and the strong fluid spilled on the table, Jimmy's pants, and the linoleum floor. He gasped in shock and fear, but was relieved to see that not a single piece of glass got embedded in his deformed hand.

"ANSWER ME!" Elina screeched—Jimmy's dark eyes widened as he saw his daughter stand up from her seat and lean in to get his attention. She needed to have a serious talk with him. No pussy-footing around, no games, no hints; just a straight-up talk.

"I'M TIRED OF THIS! STOP IT!" she continued; she had never been so angry in all her life, and she could tell her father was suddenly afraid. Her voice silenced ever so slightly but was still forceful. "You're killing yourself! Drinking yourself to death like you're some lazy-ass vagrant off the street, wallowing around all day while I'm at school! You don't even have a _fucking job_! AT SCHOOL! I _HATE_ THAT FUCKING PLACE! I HATE THIS TOWN, DAMN IT!" She felt her blood pressure rise, the fire in her eyes turning red with fury as she stared at her father. "And the sad part is, YOU DON'T GIVE A FLYING _FUCK_! Ever since mamma died, you've been a wreck! Look at you! You even _look_ like shit! You're _pathetic_! It's no fucking wonder they foreclosed the _FARM_!"

Her voice turned hoarse, but she continued—Jimmy stared up at her and simply decided to take it. He sure was inebriated, but she was right; everything she was screaming about was right. He failed miserably. He screwed up big time. His dark brown eyes stared up, but not at her—he gazed right through her as tears formed in his eyes gradually. Not a blink set them free to flow down his cheeks.

"You had a BEAUTIFUL farm! FIVE FUCKING ACRES! _MY CHILDHOOD HOME_! ALL TO WASTE! YOU HAD A GOOD LIFE!" Tears formed in her eyes, thinking of her mother as she shut her eyes and continued to hiss hoarsely. "You sold my horse! Dagmar…I loved that horse! YOU FUCKING SOLD HER! JUST TO COME DOWN TO THIS SHITTY TOWN! And, let's not forget, DRINK! DRINK, DRINK, DRINK! THAT'S ALL YOU FUCKING DO!" Now, she started to cry, her face already beet red from expressing her anger.

"Mamma wouldn't want to see you like this!" She sniffled, looking down and taking a breath before continuing her rant—Jimmy kept listening no matter how intimidating or scary he found her to be. "Ever since we came down to this shit hole of a town, you've been bringing girls home." She shook her head, the thought breaking her heart. "Every night, I have to blare my FUCKING STEREO just to not even_HEAR_ you guys bonking in the room across the hall! Do you even realize how _ANNOYING_ that is? I'm FIFTEEN! It's DISGUSTING! You're literally _old as shit_ and you're bonking twenty and thirty year olds! IT'S DISGUSTING!"

Right then and there, she broke down and sobbed covering her face with her palms. Jimmy looked up at her, still drunk to even know what was going on or to pay attention to the hurtful things she had hissed like a scorpion jabbing its sharp tail in his heart. He did, however, hear what she had to say when it came to events that had affected them both—alright, _now_ he was remembering the hurtful things and feeling disheartened by them. Elina was so tempted to tell him she hated him, but she didn't want to look like that bad of a person in front of him. Jimmy just sat there and frowned, continuing to listen to his daughter as a single, warm, salty tear ran down his cheek slowly.

"I can't take it anymore," she sobbed, her fiery hazel-greens sparkling with sadness at her father. "You need to stop it._PLEASE_! Please! Stop…just _stop_…_please_…can you? For _me_? _At least_?"

Jimmy took a heavy sigh, which told her he was conscious enough to listen to every part of her rant. There was even a sad look in his eyes, and a tear had fallen; he reached one of his deformed hands to his left eye to rub it and wipe away any other tears that remained hidden. Elina faced him—he suddenly remembered a time where he never wanted her to be upset, and how he wanted to always protect his precious little girl. It seemed like those days were nothing but a memory as his alcoholism escalated in order for him to cope with his wife's passing. He saw her approach him slowly, tears running down her beet red face as he noticed white light develop at the hands by her sides.

He relaxed, looking up into her eyes as she laid her hands gently on him; one was projecting healing energy into his mind, the other was positioned where his heart and liver should have been so that way energy could be distributed evenly into both areas that needed it most. She was now calm with her eyes closed, but still fiercely determined to help him as the energy not only refreshed those areas of the body, but made him sober within minutes. Once she took her warm hands off him, Jimmy blinked a few times and sighed, taking a good look up at Elina, who gazed back and sighed before walking away.

"I'm leaving," she said.

"What?"

"You heard me," Elina replied coldly. "I'm leaving."

"Where are you going?" Jimmy asked with worry, on the verge of tears. He didn't want her to be upset anymore; he stood up and tried to take action.

"Maybe my room? Or, a walk outside somewhere? Maybe to far, far away in magic land?" she wondered cynically. "Then again, you wouldn't give two shits. You never have." Hearing this, he approached her and looked straight down into her eyes—the smell of liquor consumed the room as the mess from Elina telekinetically breaking the bottle and glass cup remained at the table.

"That's _not_ true, Elina," he said through gritted teeth. "Don't say that. I love you."

"You don't act like you do, drinking and being a lazy bum," Elina retorted.

She proceeded to walk toward the door of the apartment, but before she could take her fourth step, he grabbed her wrist in his deformed hand, moving closer to prevent her from fulfilling her declaration of leaving. Elina gasped and felt a bit scared—perhaps her healing powers had not worked? Maybe they were backfiring? She struggled to get out of his grip, but he seemed too strong.

"Let me go!"

"Elina, please!" he exclaimed with distress. "You're all I have. Don't leave me!"

"Get your hands off me! Don't touch me!"

Suddenly he flinched—a ball of fire formed in Elina's hand like a torch as he held it up. He looked at her beautiful, ethereal face showing an anxious, perplexed expression. She stared back at him, the fire going out in her hand by her loss of focus, and noticed that same strange look in his eyes again—it were as though he were looking at Britta had she still been alive.

"Let me go," she said tearfully.

"Elina," he said softly. "I don't _ever_ want to let you go."

"Dad, you have to," she replied, holding back her tears. "You need help. I can't _give_ you that help. You need to see someone about your drinking."

"Elina." He loosened his grip on her wrist before letting it go completely, approaching her so that he was close to her; almost_too_ close. "I'll make a promise to you. _Only_ to you." He sighed sadly. "I'll never pick up another drink again. I'll get a job. You were right about everything…" He bit his lower lip. "I failed as a father."

"No," Elina said. "Don't say that. You're just…a little sick. You need help. A therapist, a doctor, someone. You can't just make a promise and—"

"Elina," he said, gazing down at her with that same strange gaze in his dark brown eyes. "I love you."

"I know, you probably do deep down, but you're still drunk. I know you are," Elina said; she was in denial, but for all she knew, maybe there was still a chance of him giving her the affection of a father? "You need to rest. I'll make you breakfast in the morning, just please. Go to bed or…or rest on the couch."

"No, Elina," he said, his voice sounding more serious. "_I love you_."

Without any further words, he leaned down and kissed her soft lips with uninhibited passion—Elina gasped in shock and worry as she felt her father kiss her the way he did, with his tongue gently teasing her lower lip and, the strangest yet, his strong arms snaked around her wasp, small waist as he pulled her against him. In an instant, she pushed him away from her and wiped her lips, her hazel-green eyes filled with horror.

"What are you _doing_?!" she exclaimed, pulling her eyebrows in to look at him as though he were truly the freak he was known as.

"Elina, I know you're my daughter," he explained. "But…I just can't…I just can't help it."

"Yes, you can!" she shouted. "You're my father! That's just…_vile_!"

"When your mother died, I lost the world," he said, looking at her with a tear forming in each eye. "Her passing ripped a hole in my heart. You…you were the only one to fill that emptiness. The boys are all doing their own things now, but…you...I think of you everyday. I know I'm drunk all the time, but you just took away my drunkenness a few minutes ago. You're there to put up with me even though I don't intend to cause you pain or worry. You've tried to take care of me when I could've sworn I was losing my mind. I-I'm not crazy. I'm being serious. I love you, Elina."

Elina sighed, looking downward as she felt her father come closer again only to hold her close to him; this time, in the normal way a father would hug his daughter. She returned the hug out of pity—she was fully aware of the effects of her mother's death on him, and she couldn't help but empathize with him. He had turned to alcohol to drown himself with denial and with the hopes of feeling better, but the sorrow and grief was still there. He had not truly gotten over Britta's death, and it broke her heart more than the image of seeing him drink.

The moment she stopped to look up into her father's dark brown eyes, she only imagined what could possibly happen next.

* * *

><p><strong>So Jimmy is in love with his daughter—I know, it's a <span>HUGE<span> stretch. However, if you really think about it, it isn't _totally_ out of character because he's a hornball/manwhore on the show, so it's _not _technically that bad as far as character accuracy goes. **

**Also, if you've seen _Freak Show_, you'll see Jimmy, aside from being a hot-head, is an over-sensitive kind of guy. When he lost Britta in an earlier chapter, he just hit rock bottom and never came back up. Maybe there's hope in a future chapter?**

**On the bright side, you saw some more Bette and Dot! :D YAY!**

**Anyways, leave Reviews and stuff. Sorry if I disturbed you with my writing. :O**


	20. Chapter 20

**WARNING: **_This chapter contains sexual content and incest. Discretion is __highly advised__; if you don't like it, don't read it! _

Jimmy caressed Elina's face gently, meeting sheer ugliness with pure beauty as she gazed up at him with those fiery hazel-green eyes. Pity and sympathy were infused in the fires of her pupils, but he wanted to prove to her that he loved her both as a father and as something much more profound. She didn't seem very happy, but he was relieved to see her blush ever so slightly, the soft pink coloring in her cheeks making her cheekbones stand out even more.

"Elina?" he asked.

"What?"

"I love you," he repeated, kissing the corner of her eye where remnants of her tears stuck to her soft, marble-toned skin. She turned her eyes downward to her feet, her full, black eyelashes making her ethereal face look all the more beautiful as he looked down at her. She didn't say a word, but let her mind race a thousand miles per hour. _This is wrong_, she thought, _why the hell don't I have the balls to force him away with my powers_?

"Elina, I know this is really weird," Jimmy said. "If anything, I'm probably scaring you."

"No," she replied.

"Then," he began, lifting her chin up to meet his eyes with hers. "Why aren't you talking to me?"

"I don't know, dad," she replied.

"If you don't feel the same way, I understand," he said finally. "I just…" He sighed softly, breathing out through his nose, "want to prove to you how much…I care about you, because I love you, and I care about your feelings more than my own."

"If you say that, why don't you act on it and get away from me?" Elina asked harshly, releasing her arms so their embrace could end; Jimmy seemed reluctant.

"Because...I don't ever want to be distant from you again. I won't let anybody or anything hurt you," he replied tearfully. "I haven't felt that way since…oh, a long time. When she died, the words had no meaning. Now, they do."

"So, let me get one thing straight," Elina said, maintaining poor eye contact with her father. "You never wanted me to see boys for this reason? Is that why you've been such a hog all these years?"

"No," Jimmy said. "I never wanted you to be hurt by some scumbag who would use you for one night only to dump you and never talk to you again. I'd have to rip their balls off."

"Yet that's what you've been doing since we came here. Sleeping with random girls, never the same one twice in a row," Elina sneered. Jimmy sighed at her, looking into her eyes and walking closer to her.

"Elina, I've been trying to take out my…_frustrations_ on them. Also, it was consensual. One woman paid me, even. We needed the money. So…you know," Jimmy explained. "Three hundred bucks I got from her."

"I don't believe you," Elina replied, scowling her face meanly. "That makes _you_ a scumbag, then, right?"

"No, it doesn't matter anymore," Jimmy said haughtily.

"It kinda does if you say you love me in _that_ way," Elina said, her fiery eyes delving into his.

"No, it's not. I stopped sleeping with women two weeks ago. I was probably too drunk to think about sex and…I…I…I kept thinking about you," he said, directing a loving gaze down at his daughter.

"Ew," she scoffed. "Disgusting."

"It's not disgusting, Elina. Yeah, you're my daughter, but if I love you very much, it won't matter," he replied.

"Actually, it does." She was testing him now. "What if I told you I hated your guts and called you a dirty old man?"

"Then I know you'd still love me because I'm your father, and not for any other reason. We'd move on with our lives as if this never happened," Jimmy responded. She chuckled and rolled her eyes, redirecting her gaze up at her father as she pushed her voluminous, curled blonde hair back.

"So let's pretend you never told me you loved me," Elina suggested with a mean undertone in her voice. "You're still getting help, though."

"I can't hide how I feel. I wanted you to know, and for many reasons," Jimmy replied, taking one of her beautiful hands in his deformed, fused-fingered one.

"What's one?" she asked; now she was being very testy.

"Because…if you love someone, you don't hide secrets from them," he told her, taking her hand and kissing it gently; he saw her face blush ever so slightly again. He took a moment to take in the image of her ethereal, pure beauty. "Elina?"

"What?" Her gaze didn't look so cruel and biting anymore—the normal fires of a normal mood blazed in her hazel-green eyes.

"Close your eyes," he said softly. "Relax. Can you do that?"

"What are you going to do?" Elina asked suspiciously, licking her lower lip softly and biting it before releasing it.

"Don't look," he said, trying to charm her. "Just_feel_."

It took her a minute to fully close her eyes, and when she did, Jimmy's deformed hands cupped her beautiful face as he leaned in to kiss her as gently as possible. Elina could taste hints of liquor on his breath, but she only returned his kiss somewhat; she was shocked to feel that his lips were smooth and relaxed enough to make their kiss seem more like a caress. When he began to tease her lower lip with his tongue, he increased the pressure and amount of passion as he snaked his arms around her lithe waist, pulling her closer gradually as his kissing became more fervent and feverish. He felt his body temperature rise, and his arousal start to bulge in his pants as he felt his daughter's large, soft breasts press against him through her shirt. He broke the kiss and looked down at her before whispering in her ear.

"Open your eyes," he commanded gently. She did so, and she looked up at him with a strange longing; it was forbidden, and Jimmy could see that the fires in her eyes were a kind he had never seen on her before—they seemed to flicker like a spirit dancing in the wind in divine ecstasy. Elina suddenly felt more relaxed.

"You know what mamma told me before she died?" she asked.

"What is that?" Jimmy asked.

"She told me to stay pure for as long as I could, and to cherish it," she replied, looking up at him and blinking a bit. Jimmy smiled tearfully, looking down at her as a tear fell down his face and rolled down his cheek.

"Elina," he said. "I'm here to cherish it. I…I would be honored to be your first."

"She also…told me it hurts. A lot," she added. Jimmy then remembered the night Britta told him about her grim past in Sweden and the traumatic memories she had suppressed in her mind to try and forget them all together. He shook his head, sighing softly.

"I'll…I'll be gentle. I won't hurt you," he said, almost a whisper as his dark brown eyes gazed into hers with pure love. "D-Do you _want_ to? With me? Tonight?" She thought about it—_it's so wrong_, she thought, _I'm supposed to be married. My mother said so. Oh, well, she's gone anyways. What do I have to lose?_

"Yes," she finally said.

He caressed her ethereal, intensely beautiful face once again as he leaned in to kiss her once again—Elina was reluctant to return it, but the moment he slid his tongue in her mouth, she gasped and felt there was no choice but to simply kiss him back. Suddenly, there was a strange feeling burning inside her core; her heart raced beyond comprehension, her mind was going in a million different directions, and the internal fire, stored in the deepest recesses of her heart, roared against the walls of her valves. Jimmy wrapped his strong arms around her thin waist and pulled her closer, causing her to let out a slight moan as her heaving bust pressed against him.

"Mm…" He then broke the kiss, and took her hand into his.

"Let's go to the bedroom," he said.

"Uh…which one?" she asked—she wouldn't dare enter his own bed like the whores he had slept with since moving back to Jupiter. I will not be one of them, she thought. His next words made her change her mind.

"Mine, of course, sweetie," he said with a slight grin.

Jimmy led Elina to the bedroom across from her own just down the hallway, turning on the light and closing the door before looking back down at his daughter. She was incredibly exquisite, but even more so without makeup; she had not been wearing any, but remnants of thick mascara stayed in her naturally full lashes. Her eyes, which radiated the fire within, stared up at him nervously as he approached her. He noticed them widen, but Elina was truly shocked—why couldn't he just fall in love with one of the girls he had messed around with instead? _Why me_, she thought.

Once he started to unbutton the front of his plain brown shirt, he walked closer and put Elina's hands to his chest, encouraging her to resume undoing the buttons as he held her close, inhaling the sweet, fruity-scent of her voluminous blonde hair as he slid his disfigured hands down the small of her back and to her voluptuous, round bottom to begn bunching up the hem of her nightgown, which had only reached to her lower thighs. Elina gasped, looking down to see her panties be exposed, as well as the bulge that had formed in her father's pants. Her cheeks flushed a bright red as her father gently pulled off her garment. He gasped—her breasts were quite large, but very round and soft with perfect, perky nipples hardening without her knowledge. Her legs were of average size and length, and her waist was tiny, and her shoulders slouched forward as she tried to hide herself. Before she could cover her breasts, Jimmy took a breath, tossing aside his shirt and holding her hands in his.

"You don't have to hide," he told her. "You're…so beautiful."

"Dad?" Elina said worriedly. "Can we _please_ get this over with?"

"You shouldn't be in such a hurry," Jimmy replied, a blank expression on his face. "Are you alright?"

"No. I'm nervous," she said, feeling her body shake. He went to sit on the edge of the bed, and invited her over, patting the area right next to him—she followed suit and sat beside him, and he alternated his focus between her intense hazel-green eyes and her ample bosom, now fully exposed for him to see.

"There's no need to be, sweetie," he said with concern. He then stood up before her, looking down at her as she gazed back up at him attentively, wondering what he was going to do to begin their time together.

"Here, lay back," he said. "Don't worry, it's ok."

"What are you going to do?" Elina asked, leaning back and feeling the weight of her curvaceous bosom press against her chest. Jimmy parted her legs gently, and she gasped ever so slightly.

"You'll like it, trust me," he replied with a slight grin, .

As Elina lay back on the bed, she saw that her father was still standing upright only to lean down slowly; she felt his disfigured hands caress her inner thighs slowly and with a feather-like touch. She took a breath, and he watched her reactions before taking the liberty of teasing her mound with his fused fingers—she gasped softly and let out a moan, feeling a tingling, burning sensation develop in her loins. Jimmy took note of this before slowly moving lower on her womanhood through her panties.

"Elina," he sighed softly, leaning down further to kiss her soft, pink lips gently.

"Ah," she moaned, closing her eyes and feeling as his fingers focused on a certain area that was sensitive to the touch. She let out a gasp as he continued to touch her, while in the meantime, Jimmy could feel her panties getting wetter and wetter. She felt so warm, and just the thought of taking her right then and there made him rock hard.

"You're ready," he muttered to himself, attempting to remove her panties; surprisingly, Elina cooperated, even though she turned red as a strawberry upon seeing him take his pants off. He then proceeded to join her on the bed, laying back as Elina turned on her side to look down at him.

"What now?" she asked. When she saw him reach one of his deformed hands down to stroke his bulge through his underpants, her eyes widened, staring down at his erection before looking at him again.

"I'll show you," he cooed softly.

He took her hand and gently placed it on the waistband of his underwear, and she blushed; she also was confused. What did he want her to do? Elina looked up at him for a moment before slowly reaching to stroke his length. As she noticed him let out a grunt of pleasure, she felt how much he was throbbing and pulsating, and it shocked her because she was his daughter. She continued to stroke, licking her lower lip softly as she ran the tip of her finger over his hardened cock through his underpants.

"Ah," he groaned. "Mmm, yeah. Elina…oh, Elina." He seemed to sigh her name like a sacred chant, and she nervously started to stroke faster and harder, making him toss his head back and let out a cry of ecstasy.

"Elina!"

"Dad, I…I don't know if…uh…well...maybe I should stop," she suggested.

"It's ok. I want to give you pleasure again, anyway," he said. "Lay back."

She did so, feeling slightly more comfortable as she rested her head askew to the right pillow. Jimmy eased himself on top of her and pressed his lips on hers gently, kissing her with soft, raw passion; Elina's fingers found themselves running through his bit of chest hair as she returned his kiss. He moved lower at a gradual pace to worship her neck. As he searched for her sweet spot, Elina sighed and moaned slightly, running her fingers through her father's graying auburn-brown hair as she tossed her head back. It didn't take him long to find it, and once he did, he knew—she had let out a moan louder than she had for the entire time of them being together. He French-kissed the area continuously, feeling sweat drip down his forehead as he made her sigh and gasp in pleasure.

As he proceeded to move lower to her ample bosom, he knelt slightly upright and placed his hands on them; she shut her eyes and whimpered, as his deformed hands felt strange on her skin in this manner. Jimmy gazed down at her with his warm brown eyes, and she finally looked up at him, feeling her nipples harden even more as he leaned down to lick and suck on them gently.

"Dad," she whimpered. "Please…I…I…"

"Elina?" He stopped for a moment, listening to whatever she had to say.

"Please, just, take me," she said with little hesitation. "Please."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking down at her as he kissed the corner of her small, pink mouth.

"Yes, please dad, just…please," she whimpered. "I…" She couldn't believe what was coming out of her mouth. "I want it."

Jimmy licked his upper lip seductively, smirking boyishly as he reached down and pulled his underpants down and off so his hard, throbbing eight-inches could pop free from the confining fabric. Elina looked down, and gasped in shock at how big he was. _There's no way_, she thought to herself, _it's too big_.

"Dad," she said. "Uh…I don't think all of that…is going to, you know, fit."

"Don't worry, sweetie," he said, gazing down into her eyes and bewitched by the fire within their intense hazel-green hue. "I'll be gentle. I promise."

"Well…uh…ok," she replied.

He lowered himself so he could easily rub the tip of hard, erect cock against her, teasing her entrance and coaxing her juices out to lubricate her clit and slick folds. The direct stimulation to her pearl made her cry out in bliss before he slowly slid his member into her waiting hole, breaking her cherry in the process. She gasped and whimpered in pain, feeling the sharpness of his gentle first thurst.

"Ow!" she wailed softly.

"Elina," Jimmy sighed softly, bewitched by her beauty. "I'm sorry."

"It hurts," she added.

"It'll get better, sweetie," he said, silencing her with a fervent kiss that made her feel feverish with desire. The pain seemed to subside ever so slowly, but it was not total agony as he took three slower thrusts into her virgin girlhood, glancing down to see that she had bled on him—he didn't mind one bit.

"Ah," she groaned. He kissed the outer corner of her left eye, his hands fondling her breasts as he tried to calm her down and make her feel less pain. He took another thrust, going slightly deeper as she moaned.

"Elina? Are you alright?" he asked.

"I…well," she muttered, taking a soft gulp. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"See? It ain't so bad," Jimmy said, moving a stray blonde hair away from his daughter's blushing face. "Do you want me to go faster?"

"Well," Elina said with her eyes closed. "It's my first time. I wouldn't know what this feels like until now. M-Maybe…you know…_you _can be the one to…determine that?"

"I love you," he replied.

He kissed her and began to move in and out of her, his tongue exploring her mouth as she moaned. His hands were still fondling her breasts, playing with her nipples as she quivered under him. Elina felt an intense buildup start to happen inside her, and when Jimmy wrapped her legs around him, he felt himself slide deeper into her wet, dripping liquid heat; for a brief moment, he gazed down into his daughter's eyes—he could've sworn he was looking at Britta for a moment, but once he realized it was the next best thing to his late wife (at least to him), he thrust his hips so he could plunge harder into her.

"AH!" she shouted in pleasure, feeling herself impulsively claw at her father's back as he made love to her. Jimmy, who was breathing heavily, closed his eyes and felt such a rush come over him as his heart palpitated and raced beyond reason. He loved how tight she felt around him; he loved her scent; he loved her—he loved her, both as her father and as a potential partner. It got to the point where he couldn't hold it in anymore; his body urged for release.

"Ah! Oh, Elina…Elina…oh yes! Oh, I'm close," he said.

"It feels good!" she shouted, tossing her head back as she felt the tip of his member hit a special spot inside her repeatedly. "Oh my god! It's too much!"

"Elina, oh I love you," he said. "I'm about to cum!"

"Please, uh…" She was too lost in the pleasure to even think or speak. "Ah…hah….ahh…not inside me!"

Taking her words seriously, and his own wish to not get her pregnant, he pulled out and started to stroke himself while reached one of his deformed digits to her clit to massage it gently. Elina moaned in pleasure with the direct stimulation, and she tossed her head back, climaxing as he finished her off with manual pleasure. Secondly, he squirted his hot, sticky load on her thigh, being careful not to get too close to her womanhood. Elina was out of breath, and even stranger, she felt a rush of warmth and love coming in waves throughout her body. She felt like she was lost in the ocean, in a riptide pulling her away from her sanity. Jimmy took a sigh and looked down at his daughter, her fiery eyes staring up at him with an intense, glassy look to them.

"Elina," he said, softly and amorously. He crawled up to her and held her close to him, and surprisingly, she returned the embrace. She sighed gently, the air going slowly into her lungs as he chest rose and fell in sync with her breathing.

* * *

><p>"Dad?" she asked.<p>

"Yes, sweetie?" Jimmy asked, looking down at his exquisitely beautiful daughter, caressing her fair face as he listened.

"I…I don't feel so nervous anymore," she replied. "I'm not uncomfortable." It was the truth—she felt safe with her father.

"Oh, that's wonderful, sweetie," he said with a smile, kneeling up and looking into her eyes as she sat up in her place on the bed; she was still askew to the pillows. Her beautifully colored, penetrating eyes gazed back at him, and the blush that had defined her cheekbones even more went away. He still found her to be beautiful, nonetheless.

"I'm also sorry," Elina added. "For saying those terrible things. I was just…very angry. Fed up, really."

"Oh," Jimmy answered, giving her a sad look.

"I mean, I'm not going to lie. I wasn't going to apologize," Elina said, prompting him to give her a brief, darting stare. "But I did because I felt pretty bad."

"No, you were right," he muttered, shaking his head. "We ended up here, in my old hometown, and…I'm with you. I'm content."

"So do you _promise_ not to ever drink again?" Elina asked—he seemed to be missing the point of why she yelled at him like a scorpion lashing its spiky tail. She wanted him to stop drinking and acting like a catatonic, delirious, inebriated waste of air. Period.

"I promise," Jimmy replied. "For you. I'll quit cold turkey."

"Good," she said. "And if I ever find Smirnoff or Jack Daniels in the fridge or even see you take a sip to your lips, I will _leave_. Trust me on that."

Jimmy looked at her sadly—she really was set on leaving just an hour before after she got him sober with her healing powers. Luckily, he was there to stop her and he even went the extra mile to tell her how he truly felt about her other than having the unconditional love of a father. He looked in her eyes and held her close to him, sighing softly and nodding.

"Alright," he said quietly. "I'll even start finding a job tomorrow. Hopefully, there's something."

"There will be," Elina said with a breath. "All you have to do is look."


	21. Chapter 21

**NOTE:**_This chapter is written in the first person; __Elina__is speaking. Contains disturbing content; discretion advised._

My father knew I meant business when I told him to stop drinking and pull himself together. I wasn't afraid of him; if anything, he was afraid of _me_. After all, I could have burnt down the entire apartment and left him with burns so bad he'd be limbless by the time the doctors got to him. I could've just packed my bags and snuck on the next plane up to New York to live with Adam and his girlfriend Audrey, leaving him behind to wallow in his own mess. I refused to do it anymore, and I wasn't going to start being nicey-nicey over his problem. It needed to stop, so I made him stop.

I still wasn't sorry for screaming at him like a lunatic. Even my throat hurt after, and if something on me hurts from doing something I like, then that's when it counts to me. It's sort of like a bodybuilder straining his muscles to get bigger. I was straining my voice to get what I want—for him to stop drinking and being an asshole. How the night ended was just weird, but I…

Yes, that night we had sex. It was a very weird "first time", because he was my father. Even when he told me he loved me like _that_, I was shocked beyond my wildest dreams. I could never imagine something like that happening to me, and I didn't quite know why. At first, I thought he was drunk, but then I realized that even though his mouth still tasted like whiskey and he looked like a million miles of bad road, he wasn't drunk. My powers worked. He had been sober when he took me, therefore fully aware that I was his daughter. His _own_ daughter. Before she died, my own mother had even told me, and I quote: "_Håll rent för så länge du kan. Vårda den._" In Swedish, that means to 'stay pure for as long as you can'. Cherish it. Yet my father was the one who truly cherished it. I had forgotten all about it, and quite frankly, I don't think I had much to lose.

The sad part was…I loved every minute of it.

My father and I made love once a week, or sometimes more depending on my mood. He always seemed up for action, strangely, even though he also spent time looking for a job and trying to fulfill his promises. I thought he was tired, but apparently not if he had a boner sticking out in his pants. The fact that we were blood-related didn't faze me when we were in the middle of the act—he got me aroused every time, and to imagine my mother having been pleasured in the same way was strange yet I was glad she was in good hands when she was alive; no pun intended. Within two weeks, I had my first taste of a man, and things kept escalating to get raunchier by the week—he would let me on top, he would take me from behind…I loved when I was being pounded from behind. I also liked when he used his tongue on me. I would suck him after, getting a taste of him; I would let him finger my other hole while fingering my liquid heat.

Oh, damn! Listen to me! Ugh, this is disgusting how I could enjoy such a forbidden thing! Yet, strangely enough, I didn't mind that my father took my virginity and continued to express his love for me. We weren't hurting anybody, and it was my biggest secret. I was good at keeping secrets—yet the secret of my powers was even more special. In a weird way, having sex with my father was like a way for us both to grieve; to celebrate the life of my mother. It was mostly meaningful for him, though; that I could sense clearly on him. I also felt really bad for him; poor thing. I bet mamma is rolling around in her coffin right now. Just think of what she would do had she been alive and knew my father, her husband, was involved with me. All the insults in her mother tongue she'd hurl at me before beating me senseless and possibly using her powers in a negative way on me.

_Hora._

_Din kuksugar hora._

_Träskluder._

_Pappas smutsiga lilla hora._

That last one would scar me for life. Even just thinking of her saying that to me made me cringe. The sad part is…it was true. I was daddy's little whore.

Ugh, that's all for that. The good news is that by May, Nick and I fully reconnected with each other, and I began to hang out with a small group of friends. I was never going to forget Lily and how much she meant to me as a friend, but this new group of friends, supposedly the coolest girls at my high school, just befriended me out of nowhere. I remember I was walking home from school, and out of the corner of my eye, I see them approach me—big hair, heavy makeup to hide their beautiful faces, heels high to the sky, dressed like I did. I hadn't even left school property yet. It was a big school, much bigger than Barnwell.

"Hey!" I heard a voice calling out to me, so I stopped and turned around to see who it was—three girls, who looked, walked, dressed, but not _talked_ like me. The one in the middle, who had curly, puffy black hair that was short and held back with a metal barrette, a slightly olive skin tone and great dark eyes, approached me first as her friends watched. I stayed silent, hugging my books to my chest for dear life.

"I have to say, I_love _your outfit," she squealed with a smile. Her teeth were perfect.

"Oh," I muttered. "Thank you." I felt very shy—this was not like me, at least not in a long time.

"Are you new here?" the one on the left, a girl with her brown hair tied up in a high ponytail with heavy, neon makeup said as if she were in a daze. She was chomping on a thick wad of bubblegum—I secretly hoped for her to choke on it. It annoyed me to death.

"I've been here," I replied, looking at her.

"For how long?" the third one said; she had dirty blonde hair that was too teased for her own good and she wore bright red lipstick with her brows colored in black. She sounded like a bitch.

"Since...the middle of March," I said, looking at them all.

"The boys are always talking about you," the girl with dark blonde hair said. "You're in my drama class. I'm surprised you ain't seen me."

"I-I'm sorry," I said. "I don't really know many people here."

"You anti-social?" the girl with short, puffy black hair said, staring me down with her big brown eyes.

"No." These girls were making me nervous as all hell.

"What's your name?" the girl with bubblegum asked.

"Elina," I said. "I don't know yours, either."

"I'm Stephanie," the girl with black hair said. "Steph for short."

"Ashley," the girl with dark blonde hair said, her hazel eyes darting through me like knives.

"Yeah, I'm Lisa," the girl with bubblegum replied, blowing a bubble larger than life before popping it. "Nice to meet you."

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to get home," I said.

I felt somewhat nervous around them. They didn't seem to be giving off a bad vibe, but I was shy, for sure. Yet, I didn't have to be home—my father found a job at the local carnival. He, surprisingly, wasn't in a freak show. He was the guy who sold tickets to games and stuff. He only made minimum wage, which really sucked. I was happy he couldn't afford liquor anymore, though.

"You can make something up," Steph told me with a slight grin. "Ashley's ditching dance class."

I reasoned with them and got out of hanging out—I hated to be a sourpuss but I didn't know how my father would react to know I had been out and about when I got home. He worked until six in the evening; we got out at two-thirty. Remembering how it was in Barnwell, I would stay out with Lily and our group of acquaintances until half past eleven at night. Damn, I missed her. When we were having dinner that night, I told my father about the girls I met.

"I met some people on the way home," I said; I had cooked a meal consisting of pork chops, green beans and salad. He looked at me, waiting to swallow before answering.

"Yeah?" he said. "Are they nice?" Come to think of it, they were.

"Yes," I said. "I think we'll be hanging out this weekend. Maybe to the mall or the arcade."

"Sounds fun," he said. He seemed catatonic again; I thought I told him to stop drinking or I'd leave for New York! Oh, geez, I guess I just worried too much. After all, he worked from eleven to six everyday. I took a sigh and continued to eat, yet it wasn't totally silent with the sound of chewing and swallowing.

* * *

><p>Steph, Ashley, and Lisa fully welcomed me into their group that weekend; Steph had taken her mother's credit card so we could shop at the mall. It was really fun, considering I needed new clothes and even some accessories. They even took me to the salon; I had my hair dyed platinum again. The three wanted to see me with my natural hair color, so they got it. Come to think of it, I missed it as well. I almost cried when they were done—my mother died when I last saw that natural, snow-colored hair. I also got my brows plucked, even though they weren't particularly thick to begin with, and the girls taught me how to fill them in with makeup to create an arch. I looked different. More adult, I would say. I remember the look on my father's face when he saw me with my natural hair color back—it was of shock, but in a good way.<p>

"Elina!" he exclaimed, his jaw having dropped. "Your hair!"

"Yes, I dyed it back," I replied. "Not a big deal, I suppose!"

"It looks beautiful," he said with a smile, approaching me and taking me in his arms. It was the same style as before, though. I didn't see it as much of a change. He snake his arms around my waist and held me tightly.

"Thank you," I replied, closing my eyes as I heard his heart beating against his rib cage.

When I went to school that Monday, people looked at me in shock. I was walking alongside my new friends as I passed by Nick in the hallway, whose friend tapped him on the shoulder so he could look at me. His clear blue eyes widened and his jaw dropped ever so slightly as I looked over at him and winked—I felt guilty for such a slight flirtation, but in a way I didn't care. What my father didn't know wasn't going to hurt him, right?

* * *

><p>I had to lie to my father in order to go to Nick's house late that May; I had fibbed and said I'd be with Steph, Ashley and Lisa just so he could let me go out. He still had a hold on me, especially since he and I were sexually involved and he felt genuine love toward me. I did, too, in a way, but he was still my father and nothing could have swayed my platonic feelings toward him. Plus, I hadn't seen Sigrid, my mother's friend, in so long, and I had yet to meet his little sister, Anna. Once I walked in the door, a beautiful, mature-looking woman smiled at me and started to speak Swedish.<p>

"Elina! Is that really you?" she asked me, her facial expression loaded with excitement. "You've grown so much!"

"It's lovely to see you again, Sigrid," I said with a slight stutter in my Swedish. I was fluent, but since my mother died, I had no reason to speak my second tongue. Now, I did.

"Come here!" She extended her arms out and hugged me close to her; I returned the hug, and once she let go, her crystal clear blue eyes stared at me. Sigrid was close to fifty, maybe more, but she was still beautiful. She had a defined face with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes, and her skin showed some signs of aging but she looked ten years younger. Her hair, a rich brown color, had been dyed to cover grays, and she smiled warmly at me.

"You have the face of an angel," she told me with a smile, kissing my cheek. "How old are you now? It's been two years, at least."

"I'm fifteen," I said to her. She smiled grandly, a twinkle in her eye.

"Well, I'm glad you could come for dinner," she said, holding my hands in her cold ones. "Please take a seat in the dining room. It's almost ready."

In the dining room sat a little girl and she was really adorable. Her eyes, large and azure, stared up at me as I entered the room with Nick next to me. We took a seat next to each other across from the little girl, who I figured out to be his little sister. I smiled at her, feeling the fires in my eyes tone down as to not scare her. Her hair was sunny blonde, bright and fair, and she was wearing a short sleeved blouse and plain blue shorts that went to just above her knee.

"Hello," I said.

"Hi," she replied—she spoke English, which I didn't mind.

"Are you Anna?"

"Yeah," she said. "I can't wait to see what's for dinner."

"Roast beef and vegetables," Nick said, cutting in as he looked over at his sister.

He directed his eyes to me, and I couldn't help but blush at the way he looked at me. His eyes, their color, his gaze…they were all enough to make me melt. Unlike my father with his strange stare when he looked at me, Nick had life in his eyes. It was amazing, and our eyes met for a brief moment before we were served. The food was well prepared and filling. All the conversations at the table were in Swedish, and even hearing Nick speak the language made my heart flutter and dance around like a giddy schoolgirl. When Sigrid asked how school was for each of us, we responded, and when I was about to give my answer, I was sipping cranberry juice from the glass given to me.

"It's going alright," I replied.

"What is your favorite class?" she asked me, looking at me curiously.

"Oh, uh…math," I said. "I've always been good at it."

"She's smart, mamma," Nick said. I smiled ever so slightly at him, and I could feel the fire in my own eyes radiating warmly at him.

"So you're with your father?" Sigrid asked, sounding a little sad.

"Uh, yes," I answered.

"I heard about your mother," she crooned. "I'm so sorry for your loss, dear." I took a sigh and looked over at her, raising my eyebrows slightly.

"I'm over it now. It's been two years," I said. I was so annoyed with people saying how sorry they were for me. Damn it, I was tired of my mother's death being the excuse for everything people did around me, especially when dad used it as an excuse to tell me he loved me and have sex with me. Maybe he really did love me like that, but you know… Ugh, mamma? Why did you have to die when you did? We needed you!

I was relieved when dinner was over, and I was shocked to know that Sigrid didn't even mention the funeral. I could tell she was sad, though, especially when she mentioned her divorce from her husband after he left her for another woman. At about eight o'clock, I got ready to go home, and Nick offered to lead me to the door. He ended up leading me down the steps of their home to the front, and he looked back to see Anna peeking through the curtain only to back away and let the translucent white curtain fall freely. Nick looked down at me and smiled, the night air warm and comforting around us.

"Thanks for coming, Elina," he said. There was a flirtatious warmth in his voice as he looked down at me.

"I had a good time, really," I said, glancing away toward the street, illuminated by white street lights.

"I'm glad," he said. "See you around school?"

"Yes," I said, as I got ready to turn and leave. "Well, have a good night."

"Wait."

I felt him reach for my hand, and in an instant he spun me around as if in a dance, looking down into my eyes with those clear blue eyes before slowly leaning down to kiss me. It took me by surprise, but I mindlessly returned it with full enthusiasm as he held my face in his hands, caressing my cheeks softly with his thumbs. I couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline through my body, my heart racing a million miles an hour as his lips pressed against mine. His tongue entered my mouth, and my tongue entangled with his for a moment—he tasted like heaven, and when he stopped to look into my eyes, I was the one spellbound. I was in love.

"I'm sorry," he said, breathing heavily. "I just had to do that."

"I'm glad you did." It was nice to not kiss someone as close of relations as my father. Nick, in fact, was better than him. It made me only imagine how he was in bed.

"Elina," he said, leaning to whisper in my ear gently.

"If you ever need anyone to talk to, or to hang out, I'm always here for you. I'll even ditch football practice for you." Had he sensed something was wrong? Did something in my face give away my big secret? I don't mean the one about my powers.

"Thank you. That means a lot," I said to him.

A few nights later, the phone rang—who could it be?

* * *

><strong>Keri here! I hope you like the story so far and are not <em>too<em> grossed out by recent events in the newer chapters. If you ask about pairings, they're "**_Jelina_**" (Jimmy/Elina) and "**_Nelina_**" (Nick/Elina), aside from Bette being engaged to Mr. Loring.****  
>I know the incest portion is some heavy duty stuff, but like I previously mentioned, stay away from the story if you aren't comfortable reading these types of things. Even for me, this is a first in writing about such a controversial topic, so this story is experimental in more ways than just that, especially since it's my first time writing about a transgendered person (AnnikaAdam). I've done my research to the best of my ability about the topic of incest and why it happens. ****  
>If you read previously, Jimmy lost Britta, his wife whom he loved very much, and in the two years following her death, his sons are separated from the family (Jules in the Army, Toby at college, Christopher married, AnnikaAdam being out of the picture for so long with his own life in New York), and it all narrows down to Elina, as she is all he has. He is an alcoholic, and yes, he becomes a manwhore for a brief period when he returns to Jupiter. Then, he settles on his daughter, who becomes a comfort for him while he continues to grieve. And yes, **_it is true_** that he loves her in the romantic way like he was with his late wife. If you look at Elina, it is quite clear that she only gives into her father because she feels sorry for him, and can empathize with him because she lost her mother while he lost his wife, and the pleasure from him allows her to forget about everything even for a short period of time. Incest itself isn't just limited to the obvious—there are causes, more often than not, to something so controversial. ****Anyways, leave Reviews and Favorite! Thank you and happy reading! **


	22. Chapter 22

"Doctor!"

Adam had also received the phone call, yet it was via Jimmy, who had gotten word of the separation surgery being performed on Dot and Bette. He had flown alone from New York all the way down to the city of Columbia, South Carolina after the urgent-sounding call, and as he followed the surgeon who performed the procedure, Dr. Wesley, his father and younger sister were behind him—both looked worried as the doctor peered down at the file folder he was holding.

"Yes?"

"Bette and Dot Tattler," he said, breathing heavily and licking his dry, cracked lips. "They're my aunts. Where are they?"

"Intensive care," the doctor replied matter-of-factly. "We operated for thirteen hours straight. Sadly, though, they're hangin' on for dear life."

"Jesus," Jimmy replied with worry. "Can we see them?"

"I'll take y'all there," the doctor said.

The hallway seemed long and repetitive with its monochrome doors, stark white walls, and the sound of heart monitors beeping all about the vicinity. Interns, nurses and doctors all stood around, walking from room to room to tend to the patients and their needs as quick as they could. As Elina passed through the corridor with her father and oldest brother, she saw intravenous lines being administered, heparin shots, morphine and other painkillers galore, bandages being changed, wounds being dressed; anything that could happen in a hospital came before her eyes with each passing glance.

When they came to Dot and Bette's hospital room, their eyes widened to see the cold-hearted twin crying—strangely enough, she looked as though she were born as an individual and not conjoined to her sister, who was lying on another bed in the room with a white sheet covering her form grimly. Elina walked closer to Dot and took a seat at her bedside, holding her hand to console the woman.

"Dot, it's me," she said softly, looking up into her eyes with a kind fire burning in them. "Elina." She paused, caressing the top of her aged hand with her thumb. "Adam and…our dad are here, too…we came to see you." Dot continued to sob.

"Oh, it hurts!" she cried heavily, tears dropping on her stark white sheet. "Oh, I can't hear her! Bette! Wake up! Please!" It was just then that she noticed the bed near the window; Bette was covered head to toe with the sheet, yet her form looked quite peculiar, so Elina walked over to the sound of an irregular heart monitor. When she pulled back the sheet, she saw a dying woman with no arms, no legs, and yellowing, livid skin.

"BETTE!" she exclaimed. A small voice escaped the body, and there was a slight turn of her head, covered with a mass of graying, brown hair that looked ashy; it were as though she'd been touched by death.

"E…E…lina…" she said weakly. Adam and Jimmy, who saw that Bette was missing her limbs and hanging on for dear life, gasped and walked closer to their platinum-haired family member, who sat by her side as tears deluged her fiery, beautiful eyes.

"Bette, I'm right here," she said frantically. "Talk to me, please. _Please_?"

"I…I thought…" Bette stopped breathing for a brief moment before continuing, "life…would be better…after…I was…" She paused to regain her breath, and continued, "separated. I…was engaged…to a…wonderful…man…who gave us…" She gulped, and went on, "the world. Everything. And now…I've given…my sister…everything. My…my life."

"Bette, no!" she said tearfully—Adam and Jimmy both looked at the touching scene of Bette's dying moments, and each were brought to tears. "You're going to marry that man. You're going to live! You're going to be given the world again, and_then_ some!" Dot continued to sob at the other bed nearest the doorway, but she seemed to be better off than Bette, health-wise, but she didn't seem all there.

"Bette," Jimmy said, standing next to his daughter, a tear coming down his face. "We love you. You've always been family…and…you've both been like their aunts. We love you both very much, Bette. You've been such a good friend and family member."

"I…I can't…hold on for…" She gulped and continued, "much longer…but…I…" she suddenly widened her dark, fading eyes slightly as she began speaking cryptically; "I ain't…seen…Britta…what an angel…I see…white…"

"Bette! Please!_Please_, don't leave us!_Stay_!" Elina begged, beginning to sob.

"I…I…"

The heart monitor's slow, irregular beeping turned to one infinite beep—she had died.

"Bette! Please! _No_!"

Elina, plopping her forehead against the putrid-smelling hospital mattress and sobbing uncontrollably, wailed in grief. Jimmy, also crying, patted Elina's back and opened his arms to hold her close as she got up from her crouched position. He could feel his shirt becoming soaked with her tears as she sobbed, and he empathized and cried with her—again, they both experienced a loss. Adam, on the other hand, sniffled and tried to fight back the tears, but after a few moments, he couldn't contain it. A floodgate burst open, and he cried heavily, tears soaking his hands and the sleeves of his indigo-colored shirt.

"Bette, oh my god," Adam wailed.

"Bette?!" Dot called out, wailing. Jimmy glanced over at her sadly, but the sound of the continuous heart monitor beep gave her the message. "NO! Bette! Please! No!"

"Bette, we loved you," Jimmy wailed, holding a sobbing Elina in his arms—she was still soaking his shirt with warm, salty tears, and it got harder to breathe. _She hasn't cried like this, ever_, he thought, _not even when her mother died. My poor girl._

Bette was cremated, and her ashes were sent to Jupiter, where everyone gathered in June for a memorial; Eve, Paul, and Suzy were in attendance. Everyone wore black, and the day was sunny—Jimmy had spread the ashes, and with each sentence of his eulogy, he extended a gloved hand outward to let the cool breeze carry the gray, sooty ashes

"You were truly one of a kind," he had said, trying to fight back tears. "You brightened up everyone's day with your smile and…just…you were very kind. When Britta and I married, you and Dot were among many to come with us to South Carolina. You were our family, and we loved you. Our children were raised well in part because of you. Now, we're back in Jupiter…" He paused and let out a sob. "Your home."

Dot, who was still recovering but in a wheelchair, sobbed with Elina standing next to her, patting her back as tears of grief ran down their faces and reddened them. Toby and Christopher, who had also come to pay their respects, were moved by the words of their father, and were even shocked at the physical changes he had overcome while putting an end to his alcoholism. Mr. Loring, who came down with his son David for that week, cried his eyes out and left a rose for his deceased fiancée, the weaker of the twins. He glanced over at a sobbing, despondent Dot and noticed nothing but Bette's engagement ring on her new left hand, its pink solitaire sparkling in the sun of approaching summer. After the memorial, Mr. Loring approached his would-be sister in-law and smiled down at her sadly, the brim of his Stetson gleaming in the sun with its bright beige color.

"Dot, I'm _very_ sorry for your loss, pumpkin," he said. She glared up at him, remembering the words he had made a promise with—_would I fund an operation that would hurt my favorite ladies?_ Well, apparently he did, and she resented him even more for that. She remained silent, and he kept talking.

"I see you're wearin' her ring," he added.

"They had to take her arm and put it on my body," Dot explained despondently. "And her leg was also taken to put on my body as well."

"I…I never thought this would happen, Dot," he said.

"You must feel _stupid_, Mr. Loring," she replied harshly. "Throwin' away five-hundred grand only for my sister to be dead."

"_You_ wanted the surgery, and as God will it, you're payin' the price," he said. "She who is self-indulgent is dead even while she lives." He paused, taking a small Bible from his breast pocket. "Timothy 5:6."

"You disgustin', vile, greedy pig! How _dare_ you?" Dot snapped. "I'm fed up!"

"I gave you the world, but you're selfish as anythin', talkin' us into a surgery that'd kill the love o'my life," he said. "You're the devil in the form of a woman, just like Snow Bunny over there! She tempted my son, and you and your sister tempted me!" He hissed his next word; "_Sinners_!"

"You can _leave_!" Jimmy cut in, walking up to the scene and pointing outwards with his fused digits. Mr. Loring's blue eyes, calculating and piercing, darted through him.

"I will, I will. Y'all heathens don't deserve my presence anyway!" he announced. He then took out his Bible and opened it, looking down at it and reading a verse while approaching Elina, who backed away as he came toward her with his vile biblical quoting; he looked to Jimmy and pointed to the young girl, whose hazel-green eyes widened as he viciously called her out.

"See your little girl here?" he sneered. "She's got Satan's power! The power of _fire_! My son came home burnt one night! We went to the doctor, second-degree burns! The shapes of handprints! Fornication! Yes, they took part in carnal sin! Sin of the flesh! Corinthians 11:14…" He turned his pages, and everyone looked at him as if he had just escaped a mental asylum. "And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light."

Elina felt extremely scared, and Jimmy felt his rage burn within him as Mr. Loring continued to call his daughter out and read Bible verses. He wanted to keep the peace, yet he was so inclined to just punch him in the face and wreck his jaw.

"My son! David, my poor David! I find books on sorcery in his room! I had to throw 'em in the fire! He wanted_you_ to teach him black arts! God don't want witches to live, girlie! Chronicles 33:6. Says it here!" He licked his finger and turned a couple pages. "And he burned his sons as an offering in the Valley of the Son of Hinnom, and used fortune-telling and omens and sorcery, and dealt with mediums and with necromancers. He did much evil in the sight of the Lord, provoking him to anger."

"STOP!" the girl screamed.

Elina held out her hand, throwing it out as she focused on Mr. Loring—within mere seconds, her telekinetic force threw him back like a ragdoll, his limbs limp while sailing a couple of yards until he landed in the pond nearby the site of the memorial. Every watched the astonishing spectacle, and Jimmy, who was ready to charge the man to punch him in the face, looked over at his daughter with the same odd look he had given her for a while, his dark eyes amazed at what she had done to defend herself. Elina looked around, turning pale with embarrassment, and she ran off from the scene. Her father chased after her.

* * *

><p>"I didn't kill him," Elina said at dinner that night—she hadn't taken a single bite of her food. Jimmy, who had only been three bites into his meal, looked at his daughter and thought of the outrageous allegations Mr. Loring had made while in preacher mode—fornication, sorcery, Elina being a 'witch'—it all sounded ridiculous. He had been the one to take her, and he had known of her power since she was three years old. He remembered looking around their former Barnwell farmhouse for his precious daughter to put her to bed when he had seen her.<p>

_ "__Elden! Elden!" she cooed, using words her mother had taught her—Swedish and English were both used by the children in the household. She raised her arms out as if to hug someone, and the fire flared dangerously, the flames nearly licking the curtains near the windows. "__Bränna!"_

_"__Britta! Come in here!" Jimmy called out, looking at the sight in horror. _

_Her footsteps came down the stairs as she rushed to join her husband. She was worried as her hair, in a crown braid like usual, became fully undone for sleep. She peered into the living room doorway and gasped, smiling slightly at the scene of her daughter manipulating the fire she had created in the fireplace. Jimmy did not stop her as she walked gently over the white carpet and sat next to the toddler, who stared up at her mother's hidden delight in her face. She began speaking Swedish, and he was utterly confused albeit used to it by now. _

_"__Mamma, did you see it?" she cooed, holding her hands up toward her._

_"__I did see it, my dear," Britta said happily, holding the baby girl in her lap as she sat Indian style on the white carpet, looking into the fire. "Watch! I can do it, too!"_

_Jimmy gasped, watching at the fire started changing colors like a sacred flame in a mystical world—its normal color to bright red, bright red to yellow, yellow to lime green, lime green to teal, teal to blue, blue to indigo, indigo to violet, violet to fuschia, fushia to pink, and pink back to red….the cycle continued, and the baby laughed and cooed in amazement. _

"You're not a witch," he said, taking a sip of the juice that had been put out for him by his daughter. "Your mother…gave you…her…abilities, so to speak."

"I know."

"If anything, he only got a broken arm or leg," Jimmy said, shaking his head.

"Serves him right, then," Elina said remorselessly.

"And he mentioned his son," he began, taking another direction in the conversation. "Did you really burn him?"

"Yes," she said without reluctance.

"How? When?"

"Valentine's Day. A couple years ago, he tossed pebbles at my window, and I went down to see him. He hands me a rose, I cut myself on the thorn, he forces his lips on me to kiss, and…yeah. I burned his shoulders," Elina explained, looking at her father. She had no remorse for any feelings her father may have felt about the situation—it was done. Over. Finished. Forgotten.

"Why his shoulders?" Jimmy asked, looking at her strangely.

"It was an accident. You think I'd do that on purpose? Get myself caught? Ruin your reputation?" Elina asked, looking at him conspiratorially.

"Damage is done in the reputation department," Jimmy replied. "I wish you told me."

"What? Why? I wouldn't hear the end of it," she retorted, taking her first bite of food.

"You knew I didn't want you seeing boys, Elina," he replied, trying to stay calm.

"Exactly," she replied. "Exactly why I didn't tell you. You'd cry about it until the cows came home!"

"Elina, don't talk to me like that," he commanded, his brown eyes looking hard and serious. She gazed back, and he noticed the fire in her eyes had grown higher.

"Why?"

"I'm your father, and I demand respect," Jimmy snapped, tossing his fork into his plate. Elina chuckled haughtily and arrogantly before lashing back with a chilling point.

"Respect?" she asked. "Look at you, Mr. I'm-The-King-Of-This-House. You got overthrown a long time ago." She scoffed, standing up and taking her dish in her hand. "Respect. You barely respect _me_, so why should I give a shit?"

"Elina!" he exclaimed angrily; he never truly yelled at her like this before.

"It's true, though," she said, keeping her temperament calm and her tongue sharp. "_Think about it_."

Jimmy took a sigh, rolling his eyes as he continued to eat his meal. He stopped for a moment after sipping his drink and looked up at his beautiful daughter, who gazed back at him with those piercing, ardent hazel-green eyes. She was still wearing makeup, which included bright pink lipstick, heavy green and gold eyeshadow, thick mascara to lengthen her black eyelashes, and her eyebrows were filled to a perfect arch that contrasted her defined cheekbones. She also was wearing black from the memorial that day as well, and it was a low-cut scoop neck dress that accentuated her heaving, ample bosom and her thin, wasp waist. Her hair, the color of snow, was down and loose, but very voluminous from being styled all the time. He didn't want to start a fight with Elina, his precious daughter, his forbidden lover—he changed the subject.

"Dot is staying in the hospital here in town," he said, leaning back. "She needs to get her new arm and leg moving so she can walk and hold things."

"Uh-huh?"

"Yeah, just thought you should know," he said calmly.

"I already know. I've been there once a week since you had her sent down here," Elina said, taking her dish to the trash to empty out any extra food before placing it in the sink. "Healing her up and everything. It takes a lot out of me, but she's coming along."

"All thanks to you," he smiled. She washed her dish clean and turned around abruptly, giving her father persuasive bedroom eyes; Jimmy looked at his daughter, wondering why she was looking at him like that; _we haven't done it in weeks_, he thought to himself. Not the case, though.

"There's a party tomorrow night," she said. "Steph invited me to go. It's at her house."

"A party?" he asked. He was disillusioned; _is she losing interest_, he asked himself, _I'd be scared if she did. She's all I have_.

"Yeah. Friday night," she answered. "I'm going."

"I didn't say yes," he said, taking a breathy, aggravated sigh.

"Well, that doesn't matter. I'm still going," Elina said forcefully.

She saw her father stand up and approach her slowly, holding out his forearms for an embrace of the romantic sort. Once he wrapped his arms around her, he gazed down into her eyes and kissed her cheek gently, taking in a different kind of scent that was a mix of peony, lilac, and a hint of sweet musk. He sniffed a bit, and smiled—he remembered Britta smelling like lavender.

"New perfume?"

"Yes," Elina said.

"It's nice," Jimmy purred. "Very nice."

"I have another one for the party tomorrow night," his daughter answered. "Parisian Lights."

"Elina," he began, tilting her chin up to him and gazing down into her fiery eyes. "I want to take you to heaven tonight, sweetie. Then, maybe I'll reconsider letting you go tomorrow night."

"That doesn't have to do with anything," she replied with a playful smirk. "I still am going. I don't need _your_ approval."

"Oh, come here, you."


	23. Chapter 23

**WARNING:** _Sexual content. Discretion is advised._

"Nick!"

Elina had called out to him from the sparse crowd of teenagers at the party the following night. Everyone had red cups full of soda, water, or beer, and the synth-pop music was on full blast. People were still coming in by the tens after eight and this was the first she'd seen of Nick the whole night. He approached her with a grin on his face and a cup of beer in his hand, biting his lower lip flirtatiously as his clear blue eyes gazed down at her.

"Hey, Elina!" he said with excitement as he sipped his drink. "Having fun?"

"Yeah," she said with a giggle and a blush to her cheeks. "You can't imagine how much I had to bug my dad to let me come here tonight." _Unspeakable_, she thought.

"Well, you're here," he smiled; he then started up in Swedish. "You look beautiful. _Vacker_."

"_Tack_," Elina replied with a smile, batting her eyelashes as she blinked.

"Want some beer? Budweiser or Heineken?" Nick asked, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen. He reached down into the fridge and pulled out a full, brown, glass bottle of Heineken and handed it to her. She seemed reluctant, and he looked at her persuasively.

"Uh…"

"One beer ain't going to kill you," Nick said with a smile. He seemed very lax, but he was right. What did she have to lose?

Taking the beer in hand, she opened it, snapping off the cap as she slowly took the rim to her lips and sipped—their eyes met, and Nick could see the flames flickering in her pupils. Shortly afterwards, she grimaced distastefully, swallowing the beer down and sucking at her teeth afterwards. A flashing image of her father drinking heavily passed through her head; seeing him unshaven, unkempt, slovenly, smelling of liquor, and slurring like an idiot made her sick to her stomach. _How could he down this stuff every day_, she thought to herself curiously, _it's gross_. Nick noticed her expression and laughed in a relaxed, casual manner—he had a few himself.

"Is it…ok?" he asked with a smile. Elina smiled and closed her eyes, giggling slightly as a mild burning sensation trickled down her throat.

"Yeah," she crooned softly, taking another sip—_one sip seems to relax her_, he thought, _how weird_.

"Let's go sit," he suggested.

As Loverboy's _Working for the Weekend_ began to amplify on the radio, they made their way through crowds of teenagers to the kitchen, where a small table was empty; there were still a few people around, including Steph with her preparation of pina coladas for Ashley, Lisa, Elina and her at the counter. The girl with black, short, puffy hair turned around to see her friend with Nick, having just finished the drinks.

"Elina, hey," she said happily, extending the white, fruity drink out to her friend—Elina looked at it and smiled. "Glad you could come."

"I'm surprised you didn't see me," Elina answered, taking the pina colada. "What's this?"

"Pina colada. _Really_ tasty," Steph answered, her large brown eyes looking up at Nick. Elina put her beer on the table and took a sip of the drink from its straw, and seemed to like it much better, savoring the sweet flavor of coconut infused with pineapple and something else that gave it a kick.

"This got a kick," the girl with virgin snow-colored hair replied. "What's in this drink?"

"Coconut shavings, coconut juice, pineapple juice…uh…rum…" Steph listed. Elina's eyes widened at her friend and she scoffed before laughing and playfully hitting her friend on the upper arm.

"C'mon! Rum? _Really_?" she asked with a slight, annoyed whine. Nick and Steph just laughed like crazy—the truth was, she never had a drink before.

"What? Don't be a bitch," Steph joked, making Elina laugh and roll her eyes.

"I'm not being a bitch!" she laughed. "You're going to get me drunk, what's wrong with you?"

"I see it working already," Nick said arrogantly, laughing afterwards.

In fact, it had not taken much to get Elina buzzed, even though she finished her beer and cocktail very slowly. It took her an hour to finish both, and when she did, she felt both nauseous and relaxed, laughing at stupid things and cracking strange jokes that Nick eventually understood. Yet by the time ten o'clock rolled around, the girl began feeling tired and dizzy—this was indicated by her resting her elbow on the table with her hand over her forehead, groaning slightly.

"Are you ok?" he asked. "I ain't going to have any more. I already had four. You had two, and you're drunk like crazy. Well, _excuse me_, buzzed."

"I'm not buzzed," she snapped, her jovial mood going away. "I feel like shit."

"Let's go upstairs," Nick suggested, patting her back. "Maybe you can rest up there. I'll go with you. Can you walk?"

Elina slowly stood up, her hands anchoring to the table for support as she made it to her feet—her fluorescent yellow high heels were killing her now, and once he looked down and saw her ankle move a strange way, he jumped up and sprung toward her to hold her upright, leaning down to slip off her yellow pumps as he carried them on one hand and supported Elina with the other.

"C'mon," he gestured. "Let's go."

When they made it up the stairs, Nick brought an intoxicated Elina to a guest bedroom neighboring Steph's bright teal one, and he set her down on the queen-sized bed in such a way that she was sitting on the edge of it. He lightly tossed her shoes next to her now bare feet, dangling off where she was sitting, and sat next to her with a caring gaze in his bright blue eyes. The girl lay back on the bed and pressed her palms into her eyes, smudging her heavy makeup as she felt her mind race a million miles an hour. It was almost unbearable, as her father was on her mind—why, though?

"What the…" the girl muttered.

"_Shh_, take it easy," Nick said softly.

He patted her thigh gently; she felt incredibly curvy and buxom, even though her legs were average in thickness and length. He took his hand away to admire her clothed form, picturing her nude figure in his head. He bit his lower lip at the thought of those large breasts available for him to touch and squeeze, those thighs to caress, that neck to suckle on until she purred like a cat in heat beneath him. He suddenly felt his heart race faster, pumping enough blood to make his manhood struggle to stand up in his pants. He felt extremely ashamed, yet he knew Elina would welcome his advances—had she rejected his kiss, there would have been no hope. He watched attentively as she sat her head up to stare right through him, and she seemed to speak on impulse.

"Nick," she muttered.

"Yeah?"

"So…Steph never told me where her parents were," Elina replied.

"They're in the Bahamas for two weeks," Nick said. He chuckled. "Next week's our last day before summer. Excited?"

"Yeah." Nick glanced down at her, and removed his letter jacket to join Elina as he, too, lay down. Resting on his side, he saw the fire in her eyes much more clearly, and when she turned her gaze toward him, he shuddered slightly—she was bewitching, spellbinding, enchanting—he had fallen under her spell when he first saw her at her thirteenth birthday party, and he felt himself grow even harder just thinking about her and how she was laying down.

"So…" he began. "What do you want to do?" She continued to look up at him, and he leaned in closer, dropping a hint and waiting for her to answer.

"Let's make out," Elina said nonchalantly.

"Oh yeah," he moaned, leaning down to press his lips to hers.

His kissing was passionate, and he slid a hand under the side of her jacket, feeling the curve of her wasp, thin waist as he pulled her close to him. Elina moaned softly, sliding her tongue in his mouth gently as she wrapped a leg around his waist, rolling them over so she was on top of him. Nick's eyes widened at the sudden, bold move on her part; she was straddling him right over his growing erection, and when she straightened her back and removed her denim jacket, he gasped at the sight of her heaving bosom spilling over the top of her raven black bustier-styled crop top that had a zipper in the front. He had only gotten a mere glimpse of it, but now it was in full view—he wanted her.

"Uh…woah…uh…Elina?" he asked.

"Yeah?" she asked, grinding him slowly and making him even harder than before. Nick grunted, feeling pleasure from her on top of him.

"I've…oh…my god…oh geez," he stuttered, anxious with anticipation.

It was only a matter of seconds before Elina gazed down at him seductively, pulling down the zipper of her bustier painfully slow as she sighed softly. Her moans were breathtaking to Nick's ears, and he lifted himself up with his shoulders for support as he watched the front of her bustier open up to reveal her voluptuous, beautifully formed full breasts. Her skin was supple and white like a marble finish, and her nipples were pert and noticeable. His jaw dropped in shock, a slight smile in his parted lips as Elina took his hands and put them to her bosom.

"Oh!" Nick cried out. "Wow! Uh…Elina…oh wow…oh my god…" His hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they squeezed and caressed them gently. She licked her lips with delight, moaning at the sensation.

"There's no 'oh my god' involved," she purred, lifting herself up off Nick's pelvis and leaning down closer to him to whisper—he felt her hand graze his bulging crotch. "I can tell you want it."

"Yes, I do!" he blurted, a blush coming to his cheeks as a sparkle came to his eye. "Uh…oh…uh…"

He was speechless as he pulled off his shirt and pushed it aside, noticing Elina trace her finger seductively from his neck, down his sculpted chest, down his abdominal muscles, and another finger joined as she caressed his v-line that led down to his bulging member. She proceeded to unzip his pants with her teeth, and he rolled his eyes back into his head at the sight of her doing so. Once she pulled them down, she licked her lips at the sight of his hard cock jutting up in the air. He was not as big as Jimmy length-wise, but he was pretty thick; still well-endowed, though.

"Hmm," she purred, beginning to stroke him. "You're so hard. You really wanted this, didn't you?" He was breathless, and his eyes were wide open as he shuddered at her touch.

"Yes! I…I….oh god!" he squealed, highly aroused by her presence and the fact that he was being stroked up and down. He felt her tongue graze the tip, circling it wildly before she wrapped her soft lips around him—he was ballistically ecstatic.

"Oh god!" he cried out. "Ah yeah! Yeah!"

Elina gazed up at him as she bobbed back and forth on his cock; her mouth felt warm, moist, and amazing as she applied a soft amount of suction on his sensitive shaft. Whatever she couldn't get in her mouth she stroked with her hand in a twisting motion, driving him absolutely wild as he moaned out in pleasure. He felt a film of sweat form on his skin as he reached his hands down into her platinum hair, massaging her scalp with his fingertips and urging her to take more of him into her mouth. When she had more than half of his cock between her lips, he tossed his head back.

"Oh god! Oh my…ah!" He shut his eyes, and Elina giggled and moaned, producing a vibration that sent him closer and closer to the edge.

"Hmm," she muttered, taking as much as she could as she handled his balls in her hand. Nick grunted and felt his heart beating so fast he couldn't stop himself. The way she was pleasuring him was nothing he had ever felt before; it was amazing.

"Oh, Elina! Elina! Please! Oh my….ah!"

"Mm…" She continued to moan, and as she did, he came closer to his climax.

"I can't…I can't! Ah!"

Using her tongue on the tip of his hard, throbbing cock to finish him off, she stroked him so hard until he grunted and spurted out a huge load of his white, hot, sticky, delicious jizz all over her lips and in her open mouth. Nick peered down at her, his blue eyes glassy as he saw her lick her lips to collect his load and swallow it. She moaned in delight, kneeling upright and tossing her bustier to the side before reaching down to undo her skin-tight, purple capris; he jerked up, his virile manhood still hard and throbbing as he reached for Elina and held her close to him, on his knees at her mercy as he pressed his face into her ample bosom.

"Hmm, did you like that?" she asked.

"Mhm," he muttered, his face smooshed in her painfully swollen orbs. She ran her fingers through his flaxen hair as she felt his mouth find her nipple and start licking and sucking as if she were a flower ready to bloom.

"Ooh," she cooed, tossing her head back as her virgin snow-colored hair caressed its way down her back. His hands were tight around her waist as he suckled her like a newborn baby, kissing the tender, voluminous silk surrounding her nipples as she moaned.

"Hmm," he purred, burying his face between her cleavage once again as his hands trailed down the small of her back to pull her pants down and off.

"I want you, Elina," he gasped. "I can't take it."

"You can have me," she replied; she did not have a care in the world, not even one for her father—_this is so much better_, she thought to herself.

Once her pants were off, he made Elina lay on her back as he eased himself on top of her womanly form, kissing her soft lips fervently before moving lower to her neck—just his luck, he had landed on her sweet spot and made her cry out in ecstasy as he continued to lick and suck on it. She dug her fingers in his hair as he moved down to her breasts, firmly squeezing the weight of them as he licked her nubs to hardness.

"Nick!" she cried out, feeling his hands caress her thighs as he continued at her heaving bosom. The way he touched her drove her crazy, his caresses soft and directed toward her molten center. He pulled off her panties and lowered himself to her knees, leaving trails of kisses leading up to her most secret of places; he wanted to unveil more. He left a kiss on the mound above her womanhood before extending his eager tongue between her creamy hips.

"_AH_!" she let out a scream, smiling down at him at his attempt to try pleasing her in the same way she did him. Nick gazed up at her and smiled, reaching two fingers to rub both sides of her covered, engorged pearl.

"I've never done this before," he said. "I'd be happy to try it out, though."

"Go for it," she winked.

Nick gently spread her slick folds apart, moaning as he admired the damp, pink petals of her femininity, her entrance dripping with nectar and her sensitive nub of nerves engorged slightly from arousal. He took another, better taste of her, running his flat tongue along her soaked silk as she moaned with want.

"Hmm…ah yeah…" She then reached down and spread herself for him, rubbing her sensitive pearl with her index finger. "Right here," she directed.

Doing as he was told, Nick rolled his tongue around the edges surrounding her clit to tease her, making her writhe and tilt her hips ever so slightly. When he applied direct stimulation by his tongue, Elina began to run her fingers through his hair, pulling him ever closer. He applied gentle suction with his lips, holding it there for a few seconds each time before continuing with his tongue.

"Oh! Ah! Yes! Oh, Nick! Oh god," she moaned, her dripping entrance wanting more of him. Nick stopped using his tongue, extended two fingers, and curiously slid them into her, making her gasp with pleasure.

"Oh my…oh god," she sighed. He could feel her hot, wet sheath coiling around his fingers as he hungrily leaned down to continue licking her, adding to her overall pleasure. He slid them in and out painfully slowly, smirking as he moaned against her wet pussy.

"Oh, Nick! I'm so close! Please!"

"Hm…I can take it," he said with a smile, lapping at her excited pearl once more.

Elina thrashed about, tilting her hips back and forth as she met an overwhelming climax, greater than any she had ever experienced before. He lapped up her liquid sex before kissing back up her body to meet his lips with hers. Once again, she rolled him over on his back and hungrily bit his lower lip, making his love muscle stand harder than ever before. Pulling away, she straddled him, stroking his hard manhood before guiding it up into where she was wet and desperate—they both let out moans of bliss as she took more him into her. He held her hips and tossed his head back; she was so hot, so moist. It nearly killed him sweetly.

"Elina!" he gasped, his breath choppy. "Oh my god!"

"Hmm," she smirked, sighing and panting as she began to grind him at an even pace. Her hands rested on his sculpted abdomen, and his squeezed and fondled her voluptuous hips and round bottom as he tried to thrust up into her in sync with her rocking.

"Oh yes, Nick, thrust right up into me," she panted breathlessly, tossing her head back. "F-Faster!"

As he did so, Elina could feel every pump, every thrust, every throb; it was pure bliss. No shame, no wrong, nothing to hide—it was pure, guiltless pleasure. She leaned down to attack his neck with playful kisses, her painfully swollen bosom skimming tantalizingly over his chest. Nick held her in such a way that he could see her rosy peaks, taking them into his mouth and flicking his tongue against them.

"Oh my god! Nick! Please! Oh yes!" she screamed, moaning with abandon as she let herself get lost in the moment.

"Oh yes, Elina…" His next words slipped out mindlessly. "I love you."

"Oh, Nick! Yes!" she shouted, her heart about to burst in her chest as his thrusting became more powerful into her golden flesh. "Please! Give it to me more! Harder!"

She felt herself going numb from the intense pleasure; she did love Nick in return, but there also was her father. _No_, she thought, _never again, at least for a while_. His hard member thrust roughly against her g-spot, making her scream out in ecstasy as she felt herself cry a scream—she was so close.

"Oh, I'm cumming! Nick! Oh my god!"

She grinded so hard against him that his seed was milked from his cock, depositing near the opening of her womb; she felt her own convulsive release, her rosy buds hardening, her breasts swelling painfully, and her pale, marble skin flushed red. Her virgin snow, platinum hair fell over her ethereal face, framing her dark, full eyelashes and her fierce hazel-green eyes; Nick's clear, azure eyes were glassy, and as she pulled him out, she felt his semen drip out of her, but it was only then she realized what she had allowed into her body—it had also happened the previous night in her own forbidden affairs.

* * *

><p>"So, you've slept with people before?" he asked, his eyes prying for an answer.<p>

"Yeah," she answered, keeping her mouth shut about her father.

"Who?" Elina got aggravated, but didn't want to start any arguments—she dragged on her cigarette and kept her answer simple.

"That's _me_ to know, and for_you_ to find out," she sneered. _I hope you never find out_, she thought.

"Geez, I'm just asking. You don't have to be defensive," Nick asked, putting an arm around her as she took another drag of her cigarette.

"Well, maybe I do," Elina stated, blowing out the nicotine that had taken a short refuge in her lungs. "It's not your place to know my business."

"It was only a question," he said. "I love you, you know."

"Yeah?" What was love? Had she truly felt it like that night he kissed her? Or when her father tried to seduce her every now and again? Was it when her father told her he loved her that night before taking her? Well, the answer was not very simple. It didn't seem to matter.

"Will you be my girlfriend, Elina?" he asked nervously, staring into her eyes. _Yes_, she thought; yet there were other things that prevented her from speaking her mind.

"I don't want to commit to anyone right now," she said directly. Nick furrowed his eyebrows in shock, looking at her with blue bedroom eyes.

"Oh, come on, baby," he slurred, lying on his back. "What we had was…the best thing I ever felt." He kissed her forehead gently. "You're so beautiful, too…mysterious…alluring…I'm captivated by you."

How was she going to work her way out of this dilemma—aged fifteen, two men in her life, a staggering age difference on one, and a healthy one right then and there. What was a girl to do?


	24. Chapter 24

**NOTE:** _This is written in first person; Elina is speaking._

_Sigh_

So…I slept with Nick. The moments spent with him set me free for a time, but there was the issue of my father. He wasn't ever going to know I loved Nick. He'd kill me, or rather, he'd give me guilt trips galore and cry like a pussy. The beginning of summer was nothing but lies to my father—I wanted to see Nick more, and we were secretly going steady. I loved him; he was so generous and very nice to me…very loving…just, all around amazing. Sigrid and I grew closer, and Anna was like my little sister. I loved his family as much as him.

In the meantime, I neglected my friends—I would tell my father I was hanging out with them, but in all honesty, I hadn't even picked up the phone to talk to any of them when the school year ended. Steph was nice, Ashley was cool, and Lisa was far-out, but my best friend of them all was Nick. The girls were the coolest clique in school, but they were also heavy gossips and told people's secrets. I didn't want that to happen to me, and I knew I was in good hands with Nick. I could trust him with anything, tell him anything on my mind. Well, with some exceptions. I never told him I had powers and I never, _ever _told him I was in an incestuous relationship with my father. That would just make things sour between us; he'd be freaked out of his mind.

Nick would take me to the movies, out to dinner, a walk along the beach in the hot, summer sun, go to the arcade, and even the carnival. Oh, that's right! The carnival! I remember thinking, oh my god, my father is working. I tried to talk Nick out of it, but he wouldn't listen.

"There's a Ferris wheel," he told me convincingly. I had my arms crossed.

"Can't we go to the beach?" I asked.

"We already went three times this week," he reminded me.

"Shit," I muttered.

I reluctantly followed along with him; I did_not_ want my father to see us and come charging over at Nick like a bull just to beat the shit out of him for stealing his "precious little girl". For the first two hours, we were alright, but then a familiar voice made itself known where we were standing with cotton candy and candy apples—it was booming, theatrical, charismatic. I looked over and my eyes widened.

"Tickets! Come get your tickets! Can't play any games without 'em! Come and get 'em!"

It was my father—in his stupid, striped carnival uniform, addressing people buying tickets and distributing them. My knees were shaking, and I began to feel nauseous. I can't believe he didn't notice me! My hair was a dead giveaway, being as platinum as it was. What the fuck?

"Nick," I said, grabbing his hand. I pulled him away from the scene, and he looked at me strangely with his bright blue eyes.

"Elina, what the hell?" he asked, annoyed with me. "We have to get tickets, anyway."

"NO!"

I pulled him into a small, vacant tent and stared up at him—he pissed me off, and the fact that my father was right there in front of our faces…_what_?! I told him why he and I had a secret relationship! God, men are so stupid sometimes. Once I closed the curtain, I walked up to him and slapped him cold across the face. He flinched, holding where I slapped him with the palm of his hand. I hissed, but didn't scream, at him.

"Nick, are you stupid?" I asked demeaningly.

"Why'd you hit me for? Jesus," he muttered, aggravated by the situation.

"I told you why we have to be secret!" I added forcefully. "If my dad finds out, we'll _both_ be in trouble. _You_'ll be beaten up, and _I_'ll be locked in a closet forever! Don't you see that?"

"Ok, ok," he said, rolling his eyes. "What do you want to do then?"

"Take me home!" I demanded.

"Oh, don't be like that."

"I _have_ to be, Nick!" I shouted. "You don't listen! _One ear out the other_! This was a bad idea, and I told you why."

"So, let's get away from here," he offered. I felt a sharp pang in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was going to be sick.

"I don't feel so good," I groaned. "Just…take me home, ok?"

He did what I told him. He was even nice enough to come up into our apartment and tuck me in on the couch with a blanket and some ginger ale. He asked if he could stay with me, and I said no. I remember those clear blue eyes gazing down at me as I rested my head against the soft arm of the couch, and I felt his hand graze my tummy—strangely, he pulled it away. I hadn't done anything.

* * *

><p>Our next date, he took me to see <em>E.T: The Extraterrestrial<em>. I didn't have a problem, and I was dressed well—lime green shirt with black shorts held up by suspenders, bobby socks with orange jelly shoes, an orange bow in my ponytail; he sure liked what he saw. He paid for popcorn with extra butter and got me some strawberry ice cream. That was my favorite flavor, especially with chocolate sprinkles and a cherry on top. We watched the movie, laughed at points, especially when Elliot's little sister dressed up the alien in her clothes…then a sharp pang stabbed me in the stomach again. I felt nauseous, and I gagged, covering my mouth as I ran out of the row of seats. Nick watched me, and he followed me. He ran after me as I ran down the widely-spaced steps and out the door of the theatre. I found the nearest bucket and hurled all in it. I felt like total shit, and it just kept coming out. I felt a hand reach to my shoulder, and I smacked it away. Once I was done hurling, I looked at Nick, who was the one behind me.

"Oh my god," he said with concern. "Are you ok?"

"Do I look ok?" I asked, being sarcastic.

"Easy, now," he said, patting my shoulder. "I just asked if you're ok."

"Well, I'm not, ok?" I snapped.

"Well, it must be the popcorn or something. Maybe a bad batch," he suggested.

"Ugh," I scoffed, pulling a cigarette out of my pocket. "That has nothing to do with it." I was mindlessly rambling; I looked away and ignited the cigarette with my mind, taking a drag as the nicotine burned my throat. I blew out the smoke, looking at Nick and sighing.

"Well, where do you want to go now?" he asked. "My place?" I saw him wink—the last time we had done it was on the beach. I was in my swimsuit, and once he tore the top off, we had sex; we were the only ones on the beach.

"I don't know, Nick," I said, groaning a bit.

"Look, tell me what you want," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders. "I'll make it happen."

"Ok," I said. I glanced away, taking another puff of my cigarette. Nick chuckled and led me down the hall to a bench, sitting me down as he took a seat next to me, his arm around my shoulder as I took several consecutive puffs of nicotine. He smelled sweet, like he was wearing a good cologne. I rested my head on him and continued to smoke, blowing out whatever my lungs rejected as I heard him cough.

"Damn," he muttered, coughing slightly.

"You have a problem?" I asked; I was in no mood to be lectured for smoking. A teacher had lectured me once for smoking in the girl's room back in Barnwell, but other than that, I never got crap.

"Just…the smoke, that's all," he replied with a chuckle.

"Oh, suck it up," I chided, playfully hitting his arm.

"Ah, ow," he giggled, feeling where I hit him. "You're so mean. I love you, though."

"I love you, too," I said with abandon.

We went back in and finished the movie, and he was nice enough to walk me home. Street lights were on, and it was quite hot outside, so it wasn't totally bad other than the occasional mosquito or moth flying around. My feet were somewhat tired by the time I came up to the house, and I looked up at Nick and smiled gently. I could feel the fire in my eyes burning lovingly.

"Goodnight, Elina," he said to me with a smile, kissing my cheek.

I said the same to him, and quietly walked up the steps into the building and walked up the flight of stairs leading to our apartment. I opened the door, sticking the key in and turning it, and stepped in—it was really dim, and once I put the light on higher, I peered around in search for my father. Strangely, there was no TV on, no radio playing, not even the faintest sound. It was hauntingly silent.

"Hello?" I called out. "I'm home."

I walked toward the living room area and gasped at the eerie sight of a furious gaze hidden behind dark eyes, all directed at me. I saw my father sitting there, a catatonically expressionless face being a mask over his true feelings. It was very scary to see, and I noticed that the stubble he had forgotten to shave made him look all the creepier. In fact, I didn't know what was on his mind at the moment, but I slowly approached him and looked down at him as my feet crept me closer to him. When I stopped, I was at a safe distance—something was wrong.

"Dad?" I asked. "I'm home. Are you ok?" He furrowed his lips inward as if to grit his teeth, but he said nothing. A few moments of silence passed before he let any words escape his mouth.

"I called your friends," he said solemnly.

"_Why_? How did you get their number?" I asked. I was extremely suspicious, perhaps even worried. Had something happened to them? I gasped a bit when I saw tears roll down his face—he sobbed, whining slightly as he spoke with a broken voice.

"You haven't been with them, have you?" he asked me. I looked down at him, feeling the fire inside turn to rage—how could they have betrayed me, _my own friends_? Bitches!

"You…you haven't been with them," he repeated, crying his eyes out. I took a step back but listened to what he had to say. "One of them…they said you…" He burst out crying for a brief moment. "You have been seeing this boy…that…kid…from the football team…dating…seeing each other everyday since we've moved here…" He wailed for a moment, looking up at me with furiously sad eyes. "Is it true, Elina? Is it true?" I kept my cool, looking down at him condescendingly—I not only hated Steph, Lisa and Ashley for betraying me, but I hated my father was well; his sick, twisted idea of love with the only person he has. My mother had died, so he moved onto me—he didn't love me. He just used me.

"And what if it is?" I asked. He gasped and wailed again, sobbing into those grotesque, deformed hands he had touched me with so many times.

"Why would you do that?" he cried, bearing his heart on his sleeve. "I love you…so much…I care about you more than I do myself…I went clean for you…I stopped drinking for you…and _THIS _IS WHAT YOU DO?"

His sudden burst of anger through tears, surprisingly, didn't scare me. Hell, it would take a lot to scare me at that point. I knew I had to get even with those bitches I once called my friends, but this was a bigger problem I had to tackle. He stood up and looked down at me, thinking I'd be afraid, but my expression was blank—I felt nothing, not even the unconditional love a daughter is supposed to have for her father. Nothing. My heart was empty for the first time in my life. It was only the eternal flame that burned in my heart from which I could feel the heat of my power. I felt nothing.

"Well, you've been doing with that, dad," I said casually. "Keep up the good work."

"I'm serious!" he said forcefully. "I love you, Elina! Please! Why did you do that? You hurt me!"

"Dad, you're sick." I finally had the guts to say it—he was sick. No widowed father in his right mind would settle on his daughter for romantic love. It just didn't happen. It was very unnatural. "Have you been seeing a psychologist, too?"

"ELINA! STOP IT!" he shouted. "I love you! You're all I want, and you're all I have!"

"I'M YOUR DAUGHTER!" I screamed, feeling the potential of my power build up within. "…and you're my father. This is _not_ right. You may say you love me, but really, you're just using me as a substitute for mamma. Ever since mamma died, you've been a wreck. You…somehow snapped in the head." I got slightly teary-eyed but held everything back like a floodgate about to burst open from the force of a tempest. "I know you miss her a lot, dad. You loved her and the ground she walked on, but she's gone now, and—"

_SMACK! _

He smacked me right across the face.

He had _never _hit me before. _Ever_. Not even in his drunken stupors. He had only done it to my brothers. Never to me.

I fell to the floor; he yelled down at me.

"DON'T YOU _EVER_ TALK ABOUT HER AGAIN!" he screamed, continuing to cry through his pernicious rage. "YOU BROKE MY HEART AND MY TRUST! I CAN'T HELP HOW I FEEL! I CAN'T JUST ROLL THEM UP IN A BALL AND STUFF THEM BACK INSIDE!" He paused. "As for your little _boyfriend_, I'LL KICK HIS ASS TO CURB AND TELL HIM TO NEVER COME BACK!"

I felt the rage build within, and my power seemed to know no bounds. It had hurt when he hit me, but him treating me like I was property was the worst mistake he would ever make. I got on my feet and extended a hand, feeling intense levels of heat develop as I projected fire at my father. My _own_ father. I never thought of doing this. It caught on his shirt, and he screamed as I watched the flames singe his clothing and begin searing through the upper layers of his flesh. Unfortunately, it stopped when I saw him stop, drop and roll. The fire went out, but I immediately booked it and ran out of the apartment with him on my tail.

Running out of the building, I ran as fast as I could down the street, dodging obstacles like trash cans or mailboxes as I glanced behind me and saw him running after me. I was driven by fear to move faster, and it was a wonder my legs didn't give out underneath me. I heard him scream out for me; it was repeated a sickening amount of times at the same volume.

"Elina! Elina! Come back! Please!" he shouted. I didn't acknowledge it, I just kept running for my life.

I sprinted non-stop; I began getting tired, but the fear of my father and what he would do gave me the drive to keep moving, and soon, I saw the back of someone's head. Someone familiar, I remember the hair being flaxen, a dark blonde color. He turned around and faced me, gasping in terror as he saw me. I held my arms out, hoping to catch him.

Those blue eyes were my refuge. Clear as the day I hoped I would live to see.

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><p><strong>Hey, Keri here! I hope you're enjoying the story. As you can see, it's coming to a close. It's quite intense, huh? Maybe<em> too<em> intense? =_=**

**Please leave Reviews and, if you want, Favorite and Follow! Thank you! **


	25. Chapter 25

"NICK!"

Her scream caught his attention, and he gasped, holding out his protective arms to catch her fatigued form, picking her up bridal-style and carrying her behind the tall bushes nearby a clump of densely-green trees. He set her down, and he looked down into her eyes, seeing she was distressed and frantic.

"You have to help me! Please!" she begged tearfully. He held her close, ducking on the ground with her as he wrapped his arms around her, lulling her to silence.

"_Shh_, _shh_," he said. "I'm here, Elina."

"He's gone crazy, Nick. _Totally insane_. He's officially _snapped_!" she panted, jittery and afraid of the situation.

"What did he do?" he asked.

"No time to explain," she replied, taking heavy breaths to get air back into her system.

Rapidly-moving footsteps made a sound near the bushes, and Elina gasped in fright, clutching onto Nick's letter jacket. His blue eyes widened in wonder, peering out to see Jimmy running down the way, slowing down a few yards away from the bushes and calling out for his daughter. Nick was particularly disturbed by what he heard, and Elina was extremely embarrassed. He was loud enough to wake up a neighborhood.

"Elina! ELINA! My love! Come back! Please!"

"_What_?! What the hell?" Nick hissed, looking at Elina, whose fiery gaze looked at him in horror.

"Nick, he's _crazy_," she said frantically before gulping.

"I'll say!" he replied forcefully. "We need to get the police."

"No," Elina protested. "I will deal with him myself."

"No, Elina," he said looking down at her frantically, his eyes panicking.

"Damn it, Nick!"

He hissing caught Jimmy's attention, and as they heard the approaching footsteps, Nick and Elina ran rapidly up the hill of the woodsy part of Jupiter, tree branches hitting them as they ran up—her father was running not far behind, and when she tripped over a rock, she screamed out. Before Nick could help her back to her feet, Jimmy grabbed her arm and pulled her up. When she saw him, she noticed that thick chunks of flesh had been charred off his arms and upper chest, and his clothing was tattered and singed from the fires of her power.

"AHHHH! LET GO OF ME!" she screamed. Nick stepped in, grabbing Elina's waist and pulling her away from her father, making him let go instantly.

"Elina! Come back!" he scolded.

"_Never_," she hissed. "You sick, loathsome freak."

"DON'T CALL ME A FREAK!" Jimmy shouted, charging at Nick instead as if to attack him with his deformed hands held out in front of him.

Elina gasped as she watched Nick struggle and fight back; Jimmy had punched him twice in the face at the beginning of their struggle, and the teenaged boy had a bloody lip. Nick did all he could—kicked, punched, shoved—but Jimmy seemed to have the upper hand. He always was a tough man to beat in a fight, but the moment Nick realized he was lucky to grab a rock, he took it and slammed it right into the crook of his neck where his skull met his spine, knocking him down and weakening him. Elina concentrated, trying to calm herself down, and lifted her father off the ground telekinetically and waited a few moments before knocking him into a tree. Nick now knew of her powers.

"Elina…what the…"

They both looked at Jimmy, who was badly bruised, burned, and unable to move as quickly as he did. His deep, brown eyes gazed up at Elina, who recognized his powerlessness, and crouched down before him to gaze into his eyes fervently and triumphantly. She noticed him breathing, and her messy, platinum hair was disheveled and ruined.

"Elina," he muttered, holding his side in pain as he groaned. "Don't hurt me."

"Oh, I won't hurt you," she said cynically, kissing his forehead gently and sighing. She then whispered menacingly. "I will _kill_ you."

"No."

The fear was evident as Jimmy gazed up into the eyes of his ethereally-beautiful, powerful daughter—life seemed to flash before him in a glance as she stood up. Memories of his mother, Ethel, ran through his mind. Memories of his late wife, Britta, and the first time he laid eyes on her sped through his consciousness. Memories of the exodus of the freaks to South Carolina to a farm ran in another direction. Memories of death, loss, and grief, especially with his wife's death, made him cry. He felt the tears stream down his face, sighing softly as he finally felt the guilt that was long overdue. How could he have set eyes on his own daughter for love and intimacy? How could he have taken advantage of her innocence for his own selfishness and desire of being with a woman like Britta? How could he have said he loved her when in reality, he was abusing her? How could he have allowed himself to snap?

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"It's too late. Damage is done," Elina said remorseless. "A kiss for road is all you'll get from me. Plus, I know mamma is waiting for you on the other side. I…" She paused. "I think she's quite mad at you for what you've done. Fucking your own daughter…the nerve! Well, goodbye, daddy…it's been a slice."

Letting forbidden urges run through her very being, she concentrated on her father's distressed facial expression as he gripped his chest and began to breathe heavily. He was gasping for air, gripping his chest tighter and tighter until he couldn't anymore. His face began to turn blue, and the last person he looked at was Elina; her beauty was deadly, as were her powers. Once he stopped breathing and moving, she looked down at him for a moment to admire what she had done. She had defeated what held her back, and felt good about it. Nick, still standing nearby, was horrified, but watched as fire suddenly consumed Jimmy's body—it was slow at first but Elina controlled it in such a way that it melted him like a birthday candle and that the tree trunk he was propped against didn't catch fire. She watched as he turned to ash, not a tear to her eye, not a single sense of remorse. It was over.

"Elina."

Her father was now a mass of ashes, but she turned around to see a horrified expression on Nick's face. His clear, blue eyes turned cloudy, his lip was bloodied from her father beating him, and his dark blonde hair had hints of blood in it toward the hairline. He gulped and took a step back; Elina scoffed at him and chuckled.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said.

"Y-You killed him!" he exclaimed in shock.

"_Shh_." She concentrated on him, manipulating him enough to make him stay. Nick stood there, and repeated himself.

"You killed him, Elina. Why? How did you—"

"_Shh_!" She put a finger to her lips, and he was instantly silent. "Listen to my voice."

"Alright," Nick replied.

"Sit down," she ordered.

The two sat on the grassy terrain of the woodsy part of town, feeling the blades of verdant vegetation tickle them as they sat Indian-style on the ground. Nick peered over at her as she took his hand and held it. He suddenly saw a white light in their clasped handlock, and it traveled up to the body parts her father had beaten on him. His lip, bloody as it was, patched up within minutes, and Elina licked her thumb to wipe the blood off his face. Bruises were also healed in the process, and by the time she stopped concentrating and putting her powers into him, he was fully recovered to perfection.

"Elina, what did you do?" he asked her. She sighed gently and looked at him, her hazel-green eyes staring at him intently.

"You are healed. Now I will heal your mind." She straightened her posture and sat in such a way that her lap could be fully accessible; she gestured him to rest his head on her lap, and without question, he did. Elina looked down into his eyes, running her fingers through his hair as she concentrated on him.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied.

An amalgam of indigo and black energy formed in her hands upon rubbing them together to create friction, placing her hands on the top of his head as she concentrated. She did not want him being traumatized by what he had seen, so she made up her mind to just wipe his memory out of that specific event. The moon was waning, high in the sky, and it reflected on Elina's hair like a mirror. She stared down into his eyes, concentrating as she muttered words over him like a witch in ritual.

"You will fall asleep." His eyes blinked and the clarity in their blue color became even cloudier.

"You will remember nothing."

His eyes grew heavy as he licked his lips.

"You will remember nothing."

He took a breath and closed his eyes.

"You will remember _nothing_."

He was out cold, not even the warm, night air to revive him back to consciousness.

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><p><strong>Hey, it's Keri! I hope you enjoyed this story. So sad it had to end though =_=<strong>

**Leave ****Reviews****, tell me what you think of it as a whole or whatever thoughts you have. I love reading what you guys have to say.**

**Stay tuned for another ****_American Horror Story_****fanfiction! Is it a continuation? I don't know. A new OC? Maybe. Is it based on a different season? Definitely yes. So stay tuned! Thanks and happy reading! **


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